I'll Stay
by Providentia67
Summary: America and England walk back from a world meeting and are attacked by unknown assailants. When America wakes up, he is thrown into a series of events that will change his view of reality and his identity forever. Who is this woman who seems to know his every dark secret? Ones he does not know himself?. Why does England defend her? An ancient secret will be revealed. [Complete]
1. Chapter 1

**Alright. So this is a rewrite of the first chapter. When I first wrote this fic it was going to be a different story so I decided to go back and change this so it fit better with the rest. I hope nobody minds too much. The first half is new but the second is pretty close to the original.**

* * *

Nation (noun):

1: a large aggregate of people united by common descent, history, culture, or language, inhabiting a particular country or territory

2: a race of semi-immortal beings which serve as physical personifications of recognized countries and micronations with indeterminate life spans and characteristics representative of population and international influence

* * *

"Alfred" In the back of America's mind the young nation was somewhat aware of someone calling his name. It was like when a person was trying to sleep on an uncomfortable surface but just couldn't seem to get there. His body was in a restive state, that was for sure, but he was still mildly aware of those around him. At this point he had a choice, he could either respond to the voice that was calling him and wake up. Or he could ignore it and return to his half-sleep.

"..." In the mind of Alfred F. Jones it wasn't really a choice. The roughly nineteen year old looking nation had absolutely no desire whatsoever to return to awareness and the dull monotony that was the World Meeting. You would think that with all the nations in the world gathered in a single room of a UN building it would be the perfect breeding ground for constant shenanigans. Especially since nearly all those nations had the bodies and subsequent maturity levels of young adults. Younger even in some cases. And admittedly this was normally the case. But with organizational skills like Germany's it had become rather difficult as of late to cause mayhem.

"...red..." The sleeping American strained his ears to try and recognize just who it was trying to reach him._ 'England?'_ Yes, there was no mistaking that accent. It was most definitely Arthur Kirkland's voice calling him. Alfred felt his former mentor's hand on his shoulder and what was likely the result of the shorter blond trying to rouse the much larger nation. Needless to say it didn't work very well and the superpower continued to slumber.

"..." Quite heavily at this point. Ah, blissful unconsciousness was so close.

"AMERICA!" A particularly large stack of papers were slammed down on the meeting table right before where the slumbering nation had formerly kept his arms crossed on the table to cradle his head. Said nation jumped to a sitting position and was jarred into reality as he took in the rest of his fellow nation gathering up their meeting supplies and dispersing to do whatever it was they wanted now that the world meeting was over.

Alfred felt a slight blush grow at the fact that he had apparently slept through the entire remainder of the meeting. He had thought it only to be five minutes or so. America turned to meet the glare of the slightly shorter blond that was standing over him with a scowl on his face. "Dude what the hell? I was sleeping you know!" The wheat blond worked up what could only be described as a pout and crossed his arms childishly. What? He was nineteen! Well technically he was well over two-hundred but still! Alfred turned his glare to the man standing directly before him. Arthur was wearing his usual scowl, his piercing green eyes seeming to bore into America's soul. It was unnerving at times. His perpetually messy hair, a richer blond than his own, hung down a little over his eyes, breaking their effect somewhat and just enough to give the American room to escape their accusing look. "You know what? Whatever. Meeting's over I'm leaving."

He didn't want to keep looking at those eyes, even if for some reason Alfred got the feeling they were not exactly looking at him. No, actually as America followed the Brit's gaze they seemed to fall somewhere over his shoulder. But as Alfred tried to throw a casual glance to where he traced England's he saw nothing. So America quickly packed up his things. Careful not to look in England's eyes he got up and turned to leave when a determined hand wrapped around his arm. Alfred froze and turned around to see England now turning his attention back to the teen. "Look I'm sorry for waking you so rudely" he apologized. "You were just sleeping so heavily I couldn't wake you any other way. I wasn't trying to upset you." Alfred glanced away a bit in shame. He was a heavy sleeper after all so it was probably true. England sighed as no verbal response was given to his apology. "These are a copy of the notes I took during the meeting. You may use them to look over what you missed as you were... you know." Alfred looked over to the stack of papers that had served as an impromptu alarm.

"Umm, thanks" he tentatively reached down and took the stack of papers with one hand as the other scratched the back of his neck. Why was it so awkward for him to just talk to England? They were kind of like brothers after all. More like ex-brothers. Maybe that was why. He just couldn't look at the elder nation the same way anymore. Sure they were allies after all, but America couldn't help but feel like if he tried to spend as much time as he used to with Arthur he would just be rebuffed. So he didn't even try. Not very heroic for the self-proclaimed 'Hero' but Superman can't be Superman all the time right?

He must have been quiet for a while during his little inner monologue because when Alfred zoned back in Arthur was giving him a wary look. "If you're still upset about me waking you up I already apologized-"

"It's fine dude don't worry about it. Sorry for snapping at you" Alfred apologized before pulling his arm away and turning his back on the other to leave. England hadn't let him go so the American had had to use some of his extra strength which came from being a major world power to force it away. He only made it a few steps though before Arthur called his name again.

"Alfred!" said nation turned back around. England was looking somewhere over his shoulder again. "Do you want to walk back to the hotel together?" Alfred considered the request. He wanted to say yes. Secretly, despite his constant teasing of the older nation during world meetings, he did like hanging out with the Brit. But then again, he wasn't sure if he did want to. Japan had asked him before to play that one game with him tonight. Oh, and there was the shorter Asian too. Oh well.

"Nah sorry. I promised Kiku I would play this one game with him tonight. Maybe some other time. See ya!" Alfred flashed that thousand watt grin of his and departed with a passing wave. The young nation turned his back only to have his arm gripped again. This time, much more forcefully and with a slight hint of desperation.

"No. You're coming with me." Arthur's tone left no room for refusal, and, perhaps against his better judgement, Alfred followed as he was pulled.

* * *

England was nervous. He had been during the entire course of the World Meeting. Like something in the shadows was watching him. Well, not him. Something was watching America. Out of the corner of his eye he could see dark figures with shadowed faces. They had been everywhere and they seemed to be getting closer. At one point he had even seen one point towards the blue-eyed nation. It was certainly ominous, and that just wouldn't do.

Now admittedly, even though America and England's relations had been quite good, Arthur and Alfred had suffered a kind of divide. They were allies, they discussed things during meetings and occasionally over a lunch break. But aside from a purely professional standpoint they barely ever interacted. But Arthur still cared. Alfred was his little brother regardless of what the other said. He wouldn't let whatever these dark shadows were harm the younger man in any way.

So here he now was, tugging the American out of the UN building and out into the busy city streets and constantly casting wary glances into the shadows of the alleyways looking for signs of the figures who had most certainly been tailing them. They were getting closer. England was silently grateful that America hadn't fought when he started pulling him. Instead the bespectacled nation had slipped his hand into Arthur's and now they were practically running with hands locked. Arthur turned down another alley and saw a group of the same shadowed figures on the other side. "Damn" he cursed, sliding his free hand to where he kept his handgun.

"Alright Artie what's going on? You're kind of freaking me out dude" Alfred laughed nervously and started loosening the grip he had kept on England's hand this whole time. Couldn't he see them? They were right there!

England tightened his grip. Not letting the other slip loose. "Alfred I need you to listen to me" he stated in a carefully leveled voice.

"O-oh okay" America responded nervously. England did not look away from the shadows which were starting to encroach on them. He knew from experience that Alfred was probably looking at him with that skeptical look he always got when he caught Arthur talking to his magical friends. Who were very much real mind you!

"I am going to start firing my gun in about thirty seconds. When I do I need you to turn around and run."

"What! You can't do that! And why do you need me to ru-"

"Alfred!" Arthur cut him off. They didn't have time for this and he needed the American to listen. Using the hand that was resting over his gun England flipped off the safety. "Promise me you'll run. I will be right behind you but you can't stop unless I tell you to." Alfred audibly gulped behind him. That would have to do for assent. "On three" he dropped America's hand and drew the gun, aiming it directly at one of the shadows. "One."

"Whoa whoa whoa wait a sec"

"Two." _'Damn it Alfred try and see!'_

"Artie unless you tell me what's going on I'm not going anywhere!"

"Three!" Arthur decided to hope that Alfred would listen and fired his gun at the shadow. The human-like figure collapsed while the others all drew their own guns. _'Well shit.'_ England managed to get another shot out and take down a second figure before hearing the others return fire. One bullet flew so close that he could feel it through his hair.

"What the HELL!" America shouted from behind him._ 'Why does the idiot never listen to me?'_ he grumbled internally before turning and pulling the oblivious nation after him by the collar of his favorite WWII bomber jacket. Throwing America around the corner he turned and fired at the last remaining shadow.

"Follow me!" he waved the American forward as he quickly looked around. There were more shadows converging on them. Alfred had clearly heard the return fire on him, but could he still not see?

The two ducked into an alley and England pushed America against the wall with one hand while he peeked over the corner and fired a few more times before pulling the trigger to find the gun empty. "God dammit!" he cursed before pulling back beside Alfred.

"Dude I have no clue what's going on but here" Alfred threw England his gun and the Brit nodded in thanks before firing again. More shadows fell but Arthur could see their numbers multiplying. They needed to get out of here and fast.

"Alright let's go" pulling the American behind him the two continued on their way and started sprinting down the alley. "Oh shit oh shit oh shit" England started muttering as more figures appeared in their escape route. They were trapped.

Acting on instinct Arthur shoved the younger towards the wall and away from a volley of bullets that flew towards them.

"OH FOR GOD'S SAKE!" one of the bullets made contact with Arthur's thigh and the Brit collapsed to the ground, enough swears and colorful language to make a sailor blush spilling from his mouth.

"Where is that coming from!" America shrieked. England heaved himself out of the center of the alley and against the wall. Their attackers were slowly encroaching on them.

"Alfred get down!" he shouted as he saw one of the men raise a gun towards the American. Lunging forward Arthur pulled one of Alfred's legs out from under him and sprawled himself over the collapsed American as a bullet flew by overhead. Bracing himself up by his arms and uninjured leg.

Arthur raised his arm but the gun was shot from his hand. "England!" America shouted in concern.

"Shit. This isn't good." The men neared and one came to stand directly above the two nations on the ground. Arthur glared up at the figure. The man raised a gun and directed it towards the Brit.

In a last ditch effort to try and protect Alfred, Arthur lunged towards the figure.

"Arthur!" A gunshot rang out.

* * *

Alfred felt consciousness come slowly, very slowly. Shaking his head, the young man blinked several times to try and rid himself of the black spots clouding his vision. Only when his sight became clear again did he realize something was wrong. He was met with cinder-block walls in a dark room and ache in nearly every muscle of his body. Alfred heard the sound of dripping water and tried to turn to find the source of the noise in the otherwise silent space. Keyword here being tried. He could turn his head just fine but when it came time to twist his shoulders and upper body he felt restraints. Quickly looking down he saw that his chest was wrapped in heavy chains around the back of the chair he sat on and felt that his wrists were similarly bound and connected to a chain looped into the floor. Not understanding what the hell was going on Alfred began to struggle, believing his inhuman strength granted from his superpower status would liberate him. But he was wrong. His bindings were too tight and the chain on his wrists too taut to give him room to gain the momentum needed to break free. Flailing and grunting a few more times the young country finally gave up and slumped into his seat, a layer of sweat streaming down his face and stinging his eyes beneath his glasses. Alfred tried to fight panic but couldn't. He didn't know what was going on. How did he get there? Who had done this to him? Why? He slumped a little farther and sniffled as frightened tears started to make their way down his cheeks. He let his head fall back and felt it strike what distinctly felt like the back of another person's skull.

Too shocked at having only just realized he was not alone he made no sound as his apparent companion groaned and began to shift behind him. From the sound of twisting ropes and creaking wood it seemed whoever this was had similar if lesser restraints to the the American. The mystery person groaned again and then began to jerk at this restraints. "What the bloody hell?" came a familiar, bleary voice.

"England?" America couldn't believe it. _'England's here? But why? Does he know what happened?'_

"A-America?" England asked back, still a bit unsteadily and sounding like he was speaking past gritted teeth. His head probably still hurt. He sounded altogether calm though, which was probably good since America certainly was not. "Do you know what happened? Why we are here and tied up?"

"I-I don't know" America shook his head ineffectively. If England didn't know either then they would be completely in the dark. Alfred felt his breathing start to pick up and his heart beat wildly against his chest. "We were walking back to the hotel from the summit meeting... and then... That's right we were attacked!" Arthur was trying to piece together what he could recall from the events of several hours ago. Was it hours ago? Days? America didn't know. Alfred started to tremble and his breathing became louder and more unsteady. Oh God, he felt like he was choking! What was going on! Was he going to die-. "America! America calm down you're having a panic attack!" _'A panic attack?'_ That was right, he used to get them a lot after 9/11. But it had been years since his last episode. "America I want you to take deep breaths as I count alright?" America swallowed but grunted in assent. As England counted down from ten Alfred took big. even breaths and felt himself calm down. When the young superpower felt in control of his body again he noticed that Arthur had twisted to try and get a glimpse of his friend. "Are you alright?" he asked worriedly.

"Y-yeah, thanks Arthur" England sighed in relief. "So, you don't know what's going on?"

"I remember us being attacked but after that nothing. They must have had guns though. You're not hurt are you?" the level of concern in Arthur's voice jumped at his question.

"No just sore. I think I got hit in the back of the head though" he could feel a giant lump there and it wasn't from bumping into England earlier. "Why do you think they had guns?" It wasn't that big of a stretch but still.

"Oh, well" England shifted and grunted in pain. "I'm pretty sure I was shot a couple of times. Once in the leg and another in the gut. Nothing vital hit but it hurts like hell." That explained why everything he said sounded strained.

"What! You were shot!?" America jerked in his seat again, about to renew his efforts for freedom to help his friend. "We've got to get you out of here!" America jerked and England hissed.

"Calm down and stop your flailing. Its obvious its not going to work. We're trapped." The way he spoke left no room for argument. America settled once again and turned slowly to try and get a look at England's condition. They were back-to-back, both bound to uncomfortable wooden chairs nailed to the floor. As he had expected Arthur was bound the same way as Alfred with the exception of his restraints being thick rope instead of iron chains. America could just make out England's blond hair which was matted and bloody. He figured he must look just as bad. England was also very still, likely to avoid aggravating his injuries. Unable to see anything more Alfred shifted slowly into his first position, staring idly at the walls. "Can you see anything?" England asked after a moment or two,

"No, just walls on this side, you?"

"I must be facing the front. There's a door directly ahead of me by about three meters. It looks pretty sturdy. Besides that nothing."

"Well shit" America murmured.

"Indeed."

They were quiet again for at least a couple of minutes before America decided to speak. "Hey England?" said nation hummed to his counterpart. "Are... are you scared?" America's voice was small. "I-I mean, we don't know what's going on or who did this so-" he trailed off.

For a moment England said nothing, then he sighed and without wavering, answered "Yes."

America gulped but tried to sound cheerful, "Well don't be, I'm the hero so I'll save us in no time, and-"

"America." Alfred shut up. "America it's okay to be scared." Alfred lowered his head in shame, glad that their positions made it impossible for England to see him.

"No its not" he whispered.

England sighed, "And why is that?"

"Because you're never scared" Alfred found himself answering with surprising sincerity. He felt like a child again. He wasn't even really sure why he was telling England about his insecurities. Normally it was Arthur himself he tried to hide them from.

"America you bloody idiot don't be daft. I just admitted to you that I'm scared right now" he sounded exasperated, but definitely not scared to America's ears. So he said so.

"You don't seem scared."

"Just because I'm scared doesn't mean I have to let it show. I've been scared plenty of times." Alfred felt England tilt his head back as the ends of their hair met. America leaned back as well so that now they were resting their heads against one another and their shoulders brushed. The contact brought more comfort to America than he would ever happily admit. He felt the vibrations through Arthur's body as he spoke. "When I was a child and Rome came to take me from my family, when I was invaded by the Nordics" he was silent for a moment. "The Blitz." America nodded his head, knowing England could feel him do so. "And let's not forget the time I saw you wrestling with that buffalo as a child" America chuckled a little at the memory.

"Oh yeah."

"I nearly had a heart attack." Again they lapsed into silence. America felt Arthur's breathing slow and he wondered if the man was possibly falling asleep.

"Arthur?"

England jumped a bit. "My point is America" he said quickly, "is that everyone feels fear. Even world powers and empires." America thought on what England had said but still could not shake the terror welling inside him at not knowing what was going to happen. At acknowledging the fact that both he and England were at the complete mercy of some unknown entity.

"Wh-what do you think's going to happen to us?" he inquired. Not really sure if he wanted to hear the answer.

"I honestly don't know, but I won't lie, it probably isn't going to be anything pleasant" England's voice was steady but tired. America found it hard to tell what exactly the Englishman was thinking.

"You mean... torture?" America gulped and broke into a cold sweat.

"Possibly, it depends on what they want I suppose." Arthur tilted his head a bit, he must be looking at the ceiling. Not like there was much to look at, just cement.

"Have you been-"

"Yes."

"Oh."

"You haven't-"

"No, never."

"I thought not. Is that what scares you so much?" America nodded his head in affirmation as he bit his quivering lip. England sighed through his nose. "I wish there was something I could tell you but, your fears are not irrational."

America swallowed a few times before daring to ask, "How many times?"

"Three. Rome, Spain, and Germany respectively." America's heart clenched. He could not imagine what it must have felt like, what methods they must have used. How could he still keep calm knowing exactly what might be coming? He voiced his inquiry and Arthur responded. "Its the knowing actually" he said simply. "Understanding pain and those who inflict it." His voice grew solemn. "I've lived a long time America, even by our standards. I've felt every kind of pain and torment someone who's lived three-thousand or so years can imagine. Physical, mental, emotional. I know pain. And more importantly, I know that I can endure." England moved so that he and America's eyes just met. "We fear pain because we fear the limits of what we can endure. That we will reach a point that will break us so much that we can never recover. It is faith in ourselves, our strength, our ability to pick ourselves up and carry on that makes it possible for us to face that fear with heads held high." England turned forward again and America did the same. "That and faith in the knowledge that all things, even pain, must end."

America thought on that but shook his head. "But we're nations. We can't die, or at least not easily. If we won't die then how will it stop?" England was silent for a long time.

"That's why it's called faith Alfred." America supposed that was true when another topic came to mind.

"I didn't think you were religious."

"Why, because of the whole Catholic or Protestant thing?" America shrugged. "I've decided that it's not a matter of the correct interpretation or denomination. God is God regardless of the name you call your creed. In all honesty, I had hoped that after the Crusades humans would have outgrown the need to fight over the way they worship and what name they call the same deity." He took a weary breath. "But I guess not." Alfred thought on everything England had told him during this conversation. It turned out that the old man actually had some pretty insightful thoughts. Alfred supposed that if- no when, they got out of this he should make an effort to go have more intellectual conversations with his old mentor instead of always trying to grate on his nerves. "You're being awfully introspective" England remarked out of the blue. It caught Alfred off guard.

"Just trying to distract myself I guess."

"Well then, ask away" England joked. "Its not like we have anything better to do."

Alfred laughed a little. Nothing like being tied up in a room together to get some good brotherly bonding in. "What's the meaning of life?"

"42. Now are we actually going to talk about something or not?" Alfred still chuckled a little to himself, but then got serious.

"Fine, fine. But in all seriousness England, what do you think happens to nations when we die? Like, really die?"

"You mean do nations go to Heaven?" England asked back.

"Yeah I guess so." England again, did not answer for a moment.

"Technically, not even humans can be completely sure about what happens when they die." Silence. "But if you really want my opinion, then yes. I do think there is a place for us somewhere in the heavens. Are you worried about your immortal soul United States? You do have Hollywood and Las Vegas." Alfred snorted a little.

"Maybe, but sometimes I wonder. Like you said, we live a long time. We've all been monsters at some point. Killed countless people with our own hands, not to mention the sum total that our people have. It makes me wonder if we even deserve a place in Paradise."

"If you can feel that remorse and even think of that question then you answer it yourself. England leaned back further to increase their contact. "You're not going to die Alfred. You are going to be alright. I swear. I will get you out of here." Alfred smiled at the determination in Arthur's voice. "And besides, if anyone here should fear for their soul it's me not you. Dark magic and piracy remember?"

"That's not true" Alfred said seriously. "You are one of the kindest people I know, or at least now anyway. It wouldn't be Heaven without you" Alfred blushed at his own words, and if the spluttering he heard behind him was any indication England was definitely blushing too. He normally didn't mean to say these kind of things to his ex-brother. But instead of being brushed off and called insincere as he feared, Arthur instead accepted the gesture.

"Thanks" England muttered.

"No problem."

The two fell quiet again, this time with neither of them willing to break it. Alfred personally was too caught up in his own thoughts. He didn't know why England was being so quiet. _'Maybe he really is scared?'_ After about five minutes Arthur's head slumped forward and Alfred's head and shoulders felt cold at the loss. "England?" he asked. He got no response. "Arthur?" he tried again, a little louder and tried looking back. "Maybe he fell asleep?' When he still got no answer he began to get worried. That was when he heard it again. That dripping sound, except that it sounded more like water dropping into a puddle than onto concrete like the floor was made of. Alfred shifted a little and his foot landed in something soft and wet. He looked down only to feel his face grow pale at the sight of pooling blood. But, he wasn't bleeding. _'England!'_ he realized.

_'England said he got shot!'_ America started panicking again. "England!" he shouted jerking around and wrestling in his chains trying to get a response out of the unconscious Brit who was apparently bleeding out! "ENGLAND!" he called again. This time, the shorter blond jerked back to awareness and quickly grunted in pain at the sudden movements.

"Wh-what? Oh, sorry... must have... fallen asleep." England sounded so tired.

"Arthur you're bleeding!" Alfred shouted at him.

"Oh, oh yeah. Sorry. Didn't... mean for you to notice."

"Why wouldn't you tell me you were hurt this bad?" he demanded.

"Didn't want you to worry. And besides, what would you do about it?" _'Good, he's sounding a lot more awake now.'_

"I would-" Alfred stumbled on his words, unable to actually think of anything he could do.

"Exactly. Besides, its not like I'll actually die. I'd just revive in a few hours." He said that, but Alfred found it no comfort.

"D-don't" he said quietly.

"What?"

"Don't die" he said in the same small voice.

"I'm bleeding out Alfred" he sounded resigned. "My eyelids feel like lead, I don't think I can last."

"Please. Please don't." Alfred had only seen Arthur dead once before. Of course the older nation had died and revived countless times, but Alfred had only witnessed it once. It had frightened him. Arthur just gone. The thought made his blood run cold. He didn't want to be left alone in this room tied up next to the body of his best friend for who knew how long. Wondering, doubting whether he would wake up at all. "Don't leave me alone here."

"I'll be back in a few hours" England reasoned. He was starting to sound tired again.

"PLEASE!" Alfred begged. England sighed heavily.

"...fine. I'll stay." England leaned his head back so they were in the same position as before. Head and shoulders brushing as much as possible in their confined positions. But when England said nothing after a few seconds Alfred grew worried again.

"Arthur?"

"I'm still here love, I promise." They stayed that way for awhile. England conserving his strength while America, every few minutes, made sure he was still awake. Alfred was beginning to wonder how long they had been there. What his captors were up to. Were they planning something? Waiting for England to bleed out and die? Were they just going to leave the two of them in there to rot? He didn't know.

"Hey England" he decided to ask.

"Hmm?" the elder hummed sluggishly.

"What are they waiting for?" assuming Arthur knew who he meant by 'they'.

"I... I don't want to frighten you but" he fell quiet.

"But?" America prompted him on.

"They might be waiting for me to die America" he eventually finished.

"What! Wh-why?"

"If they have been observing any of this they might have assumed that you would be emotionally compromised if I was dead." Alfred felt himself getting scared again.

"You won't right? You said you wouldn't."

"That's right, and a gentleman always keeps his word. And besides, I think the bleeding has finally stopped." Alfred didn't say anything for a moment, listening. To his relief Arthur was right. He couldn't hear the dripping sound of Arthur's blood anymore. "I think your stubbornness might have saved my life America." England's tone was thankful and lighthearted.

"Promise you won't go anywhere" Alfred demanded. England chuckled a little bit though his voice was still strained.

"I promise. I promise I will do everything in my power to stay alive and by your side." Alfred felt Arthur stretching behind him and was surprised to feel their fingers touch. "I'm here" he said. Alfred knew he would be alright then. As long as he was with England he knew he would be able to make it through anything his captors did to him.

It seemed fate was listening and decided to test his new conviction because that was when they heard the sound of movement outside their shared cell. Both he and England jumped and immediately became alert. Alfred heard the sound of shifting metal and turning locks from behind him and figured it must be the door. Arthur stiffened and so did he. At the sound of creaking hinges Alfred accidentally let out a tiny whimper of fear and felt Arthur stretch again. He gasped a little when he actually felt Arthur's fingers intertwine with his own. Alfred immediately stretched back, strengthening the tentative hold they had on one another.

He couldn't tell who it was when their captor-captors there were several sets of footsteps, entered their cell, but it would be alright. They would get through this together.

"Well hello gentlemen. Or should I say England and America?"


	2. Chapter 2

**I thought I knew where I was going to take this story. But that has been thrown out the window for something completely different.**

"_Well hello gentlemen. Or should I say England and America"_

'_A woman?' _ It was indeed a woman's voice that Alfred heard. Though he could not see her, America could hear her alto voice that had a strange accent he could not place. Like something between British and Italian. On either side of Alfred and Arthur came two men dressed in plain black suits and sunglasses. Your standard red shirt bad guy goons from one of America's action films. "At last" Alfred heard footsteps that sounded distinctly like women's heels and then a warm body sliding onto England's lap.

Alfred heard England hiss, she must be putting her weight on Arthur's injured leg. Then he felt the woman for the first time as she slid her arms around England's chest and neck and just so happened to brush his arms. She simultaneously brought the older nation into an embrace and forced the two to break their contact. Alfred felt distinctly uncomfortable as he heard what sounded like her feeling her way around England's uniform and also '_Is she sniffing him?!' _If he could see, America would have witnessed the woman burying her face into the crook of England's neck and taking in a deep breath of him.

"What are you doing?" England asked guardedly, his shoulders brushed Alfred's as he tried to back away from the woman with apparently no regard for personal space. The British nation growled under his breath, she had grabbed his chin. Alfred could feel England's head being tilted one way or another before she deigned to speak.

"You really are just as beautiful as I'd imagined you would be" the woman's voice had a slight hint of awe. England started spluttering again, he was probably blushing like crazy. Alfred was feeling uncomfortable again. '_What the hell is wrong with this lady?' _"A shame I don't have time to play with you right now. Maybe later." She released England's face and patted his cheek lightly. Arthur sighed as she slid off his lap and his wounded leg was relieved of its burden. Alfred could hear the woman make her way towards him.

"What do you want?" England growled but she did not answer him. As the woman came into view before Alfred he was shocked by her image. She was tall, maybe five foot seven, tone, and had a fascinating shade of pale skin. It wasn't the pure alabaster of England's skin, or the sickly white of Prussia's, but with a hint of grey like pale ash. Her hair was also very strange. It was long and thick and the color of silver. She had tied into up into a high ponytail that swished as she walked and hung down almost to her hip. But what was strange was that as she moved her flowing locks seemed to grow dark and become black. The American couldn't really say what color her hair actually was. Then there were her eyes, a glittering violet even more vibrant than Russia's and Canada's combined. She wore a long black pant suit and had a necklace of a rearing white horse on her neck. At a first glance Alfred thought she might be a nation he was unfamiliar with, but no. The feeling he got was all wrong, she had to be human. For a human though, she was quite imposing to look upon. But also incredibly beautiful.

One of the guards brought up a folding chair and set it before her. She reclined back into the seat so that she was facing America. Her posture was relaxed, arms crossed comfortably and one leg resting over the other. She gave Alfred an appraising look but her expression gave away no indication of what opinion she might have. "What do you want?" Alfred repeated Arthur's inquiry, hoping this time he would get an answer. Realizing that his voice had not shaken as he feared it might, Alfred gave himself a mental pat on the back while the woman sighed and shook her head.

"Is that all you two can think of to say?" she sounded petulantly disappointed and raised her hands in a half-hearted manner. Neither of the nations said anything, too disturbed by her nonchalant attitude while they were waiting to find out what was to become of them. Realizing she would get no response, the woman sighed again. "Fine, I simply wish to talk with you America." Said nation raised a brow. The woman smirked, "After all we have a great many things we must discuss."

"Leave him alone" England interjected from behind.

"Oh ho! Getting jealous are we?" She leaned to the side to speak to the back of England's head from over America's shoulder. "Don't you worry Arthur, he might be pretty but you have always been my favorite" she licked her lips and both men shuddered.

"Don't think I don't know you" England challenged back in a threatening tone. The woman looked genuinely shocked, quickly rising and moving back to stand before Arthur. All thoughts of America completely forgotten and banished from her mind. Alfred wished he could see her expression so as to try and gauge what was happening. He had no clue what was going on.

"Truly? You remember?" she sounded nostalgic. "You have no idea how happy that makes me Arthur." From the corner of his eye Alfred saw her bend down and take England's face gently in her hands.

"Don't play innocent, you're-" she covered his lips with her own as she proceeded to silence the Brit with a deep, passionate kiss. Alfred felt his cheeks heat up and quickly looked forward again. '_What the hell is going on?' _ Of all the things he had expected and feared from his captors this was definitely not one of them.

"Sorry my dear, but it's a bit early for that. As you well know." Apparently she had finished her impromptu make-out session with the older nation. Arthur didn't try to finish his previous statement.

"Leave... Alfred... Alone." he said instead, emphasizing each word as he gasped to get his breath back from the kiss. This must have angered her though because Alfred felt her fingers brush his hair as she reached around to grip England's blond locks and pull his head back, eliciting a pained gasp and another growl. She grabbed his chin again and let one of her long nails cut into the skin of his cheek, drawing out a line of blood from the corner of his eye to the side of his mouth. England grunted in pain and squirmed in her grip to try and get away.

"Let's make a few things clear _England_" she spat his nation name out like something vile. "I will do as I please as I always have." She extended a second finger and began cutting a parallel line to the one she had already made on Arthur's face "And you were right earlier. I _was_ waiting for you to die so I could speak to America privately." A third finger, a third cut. "I was not expecting you to be with America when we came for him, though it was still a pleasant surprise." And a fourth. "But it seems you are just as resilient as I remember" she released his head from both hands and sat herself before Alfred again while England hissed in pain and shook his head to try and relieve the stinging in his cheek. The woman took one of her blood-soaked fingers in her mouth and sucked away Arthur's blood before addressing the newly disturbed American. "I'm interested to see if America knows who I am?" Her gaze was locked with Alfred's but her words were meant for Arthur. Her look was hopeful, and America swallowed nervously. '_How should I know?'_

"He wouldn't, he has no reason to" England objected. "You know this" Arthur was sounding a bit more nervous as well now. The woman pouted childishly.

"Well he can guess- Oh! I know!" she perked up excitedly and leaned forward towards Alfred, who instinctively backed as far as he could away. "Let's play a game. I'll give you three chances to guess who I am" she held up three bloody fingers. "You guess right and I let you go. You guess wrong." she gave Alfred a sadistic grin, and reached behind her. She withdrew a handgun "and my associate shoots our mutual grumpy friend here in the head so we can talk in private." One of her goons took the handgun while she gave Alfred a smile that would send Russia and Belarus running to hide beneath a bed. Alfred recoiled in fear.

"Wait you can't! Like he said I don't know you!" Alfred shook his head as he protested vehemently.

"Wrong" she sucked the blood from a second finger as Alfred heard the sound of the man who had taken her handgun place the weapon at the side of England's head.

"No that wasn't a guess! Wait!" America tried to lunge at the woman but was held back by the chains. The smug woman didn't even flinch.

"Wrong again. These are really bad guesses by the way" she cleaned a third finger with her tongue. From somewhere behind him the gun was cocked. America clamped his mouth shut, trying to think but with nothing coming to mind. His thoughts were a total blank, he had no idea who this was. He was starting to panic again. He couldn't let England get shot.

"Alfred it's fine. I'll be okay" England tried to comfort him but Alfred just shook his head vigorously.

"No its not! I can't let them, I-" Alfred paled. He had spoken. The woman's smile grew even more as she cleaned her last finger. Slowly, teasingly.

"Nope, that's not it either" she nodded to her subordinate. Alfred pulled desperately as his restraints.

"No please don't!" Alfred would swear that he felt the blood before he heard the sound of the bullet. Arthur's blood splattered across the side of his head and the opposite wall. He could feel the warm red liquid trail down his neck and down into the skin of his back, tracing his spine. It would probably stain his bomber jacket. England was dead. America had let this madwoman kill him. Alfred's face paled before he bent over and wretched onto the floor between himself and that she-devil, unable to handle the feeling of the hot sticky fluid on him.

Speaking of the bitch, she crinkled her nose in disgust at the young nation's display. "I would not expect such vulgarity from you America" she tsked and looked over his shoulder to England's limp body. "Ooh, that looks bad. It could take several days for even him to recover from that. Woops." She looked down at America who was still bent over and staring wide-eyed and uncomprehendingly at the ground. She pet his hair and swept her thumb across his bloody cheek. "I guess I'll give you a while to calm down before we have our talk." She smeared her blood-coated thumb over her lips like gloss and then licked them clean. She walked to Alfred's side and bent over to whisper in his ear. "Oh, and it's not my name but you can call me Eris. Eris Discordia." she left the room and her goons shuffled out after her.

The iron door was shut behind the group and Alfred was left alone with England's body. Just like he had feared, except this was worse. Arthur's blood was everywhere, and it was all his fault. This was what he didn't want. If this Eris wanted to speak to him then why did they even take England when he was attacked? America's vision started to blur, but it wasn't until sobs ripped their way from his mouth that the nation realized he was crying. Eris was probably listening but he didn't care. Alfred couldn't remember the last time he had cried like this. He didn't want to be here, he wanted to go home. He wanted to sleep in his own bed and have his big brother slide in next to him, hold him, and tell him everything would be alright. America didn't know how long he stayed there in tears, but eventually he heard someone enter the room behind him. It was one of the goons, he guessed. The man approached Alfred and the nation felt something strike the back of his head before the world went black.

* * *

_This was a dream, it had to be. The sensation America felt was like he was watching something from inside the body of another, with no control over his words or actions. But it felt familiar, like a memory. The eyes that were and at the same time were not his looked around at a large expanse of sky and down at the lush green fields far below. His body was small, like a child's but as he looked out from where he must be standing on a mountain it was the world that felt small. An exclamation of awe escaped his would be lips and the child's body took a step forward to the edge before being swept up by two strong arms. The child giggled._

"_Aww, come on big brother" the child that was Alfred whined. The man behind him chuckled a little._

"_Come now, you know you aren't ready to fly just yet. Patience." the voice was kind, doting. Familiar. It couldn't be could it? America had no memory of this._

"_Fine" the child pouted, before an idea came to mind. "Big brother can I fly with you! I love it when you take me flying!" the child turned to face his big brother, but the face was obscured and foggy, like an imperfect recollection. The man sighed, but there was the sound of a smile in it._

"_Very well, hold on" the boy's body immediately curled in around the arms that held him. There was the sound of rustling feathers from behind him and then suddenly America was flying. Not in a plane, and not with some sort of parachute to slow down a fall, but genuinely flying. Unhindered. Free. The boy gasped in wonder and America did the same from within. He looked down at the wide expanse of land beneath him. He had never felt more alive. From above him he felt the man's arms tighten around his middle, making sure he was safe and secure. "Thank you" the child whispered. "I wish I could fly like you."_

"_You will in time. And I can't wait to race through the clouds with you." Alfred felt something like the beating of giant wings before he and the man sped up their flight. The child was laughing jovially, feeling safe and happy. Like nothing could ever come between the two brothers and their freedom. But then the arms circling his middle tightened further, and he felt the man's chin rest atop his head. Hot tears of blood silently dripped down into the child's hair and trickled down his face._

"_Brother what's wrong? Are you hurt?" The child tried to look up at his brother in panic but something else caught his eye. All around them dark feathers started fluttering to the ground. Each one as black as coal and rimmed in glowing orange embers. "Your wings?! Brother what's happening?!" The child was panicking, as was Alfred. But all their fussing was silenced when the man spoke._

"_Why? Why couldn't you wait?" suddenly Alfred and the child were falling. The child screamed as he felt his brother's arms slip loose from around him. But he hadn't been let go, the other had been ripped away. And as he and Alfred tumbled from the clouds it was not for themselves that they called out in fear._

* * *

"Aagh!" Alfred awoke screaming. The American nation panted hard, wiping the sweat from his brow before being able to calm down and let the events leading up to the end of that dream, or maybe a nightmare would be more accurate, flow back into his mind. After remembering the fact that he and England had been kidnapped the next thing America noticed was that he was lying in a bed. Not bound to a chair, but actually lying in a king-sized bed with, not white, but ashen colored silk sheets. Had it all been a dream? No, he had no idea where he was. The room was well-furnished in Victorian style with what appeared to be an odd pale-cream and green color scheme. America would have much preferred red, white, and blue, but beggars can't be choosers. Across the four-poster bed was an unlit fireplace and above the mantle was a large painting of a blooming pink chrysanthemum blossom. He then noticed a small table with two chairs set up beside a stain-glassed window. It was a chessboard. The odd thing though was the pieces. The knight to the right of the black king was a deep crimson color and to the left was white as bone. All the black pawns carried both a sword and a bow. Conversely, on the white side the pawns all carried scythes. The knight to the right of the white king was cream colored and the one to the left was black. He wondered if the black and white knights had been switched for some reason but then quickly shook his head. It didn't matter. Then suddenly the events of the day before came flooding back.

"England!" he exclaimed and searched the room. Of course the newly deceased nation was not there. America saw a door opposite him and raced for it. Just as he was about to try the handle the door swung open and in walked that woman. Eris. Not wasting any time America grabbed the woman and slammed her into the wall, a hand going around her throat. "Where's Arthur" America growled threateningly. Eris didn't look the least bit disturbed, raising a brow at the hand around her neck.

"Try and kill me and I can assure you that you won't see your friend again for a very long time." Alfred flinched but did not remove his hand. When a full minute passed with nothing happening Eris eventually relented a bit. "If I show him to you, will you agree to have that talk with me?" Again neither of them moved for a moment, then Alfred slowly retracted his arm and Eris brushed herself off. She was wearing white dress pants and a white blouse with no back. As she turned and lead the way out of the door Alfred noticed the large black tattoo he recognized as the Greek symbol for chaos inked across her back. The arrows pointing from the hollow ring extending to her shoulders, the sides of her abdomen, and her hips. It was oddly enticing. Her silver/black hair waved from her high ponytail as she walked. They weaved their way through a maze of bland grey hallways. It made a striking contrast to the exuberance of the room Alfred had been in. Long after the American lost his sense of direction they came to another wooden door. Eris opened the entryway and stepped to the side for America to enter first. "Ladies first" she joked with a smirk, causing the superpower to grimace but step forward nevertheless.

In many ways it was an exact carbon copy of Alfred's room with the exception of the color-scheme and the painting above the mantle. It was of a red poppy. The room was colored in blacks and reds. These details came second to America however, as he took in Arthur's lithe form lying atop the half black, half red sheets of the bed. "England!" he called out before racing to the bedside. England lay pale and unmoving atop the bed, no breath or pulse evident. Alfred was not surprised to find that he was still dead. It made him feel sick. "I'm sorry I dragged you into this" he whispered, gripping Arthur's cold hand.

"Now then, about that chat" Eris clapped her hands from behind him, effectively shocking the nation out of his musings. America turned and growled at Eris as she just grinned.

"I'm not leaving" Alfred stated. Eris just shrugged at that, like it mattered little what America wanted, and gestured towards the small chess table and Alfred reluctantly took the seat behind the white king so that he could keep an eye on the bed and England while Eris took the other. Her eyes roved over Alfred, taking note of his tense shoulders and how he seemed to be holding his breath without even realizing it. "You can relax you know, I'm not here to hurt you" Alfred jumped a bit at the unexpected declaration.

"W-what do you mean?" he asked cautiously, unwilling to allow himself to believe her words.

"I mean that as far as my goal is concerned I gain nothing by hurting either of you so I won't" Eris shrugged, that caused the American's eye to twitch with annoyance.

Alfred slammed his fist down on the table, rattling the chess pieces "Then explain the BULLET you sent through Arthur's head not a few hours ago!" Eris blinked in surprise at the outburst but quickly regained her composure.

"Oh that, well I was in a bit of a bad mood at the time. But he'll be awake soon enough so no harm done really" she smiled. "Now tell me, how much do you know of Greek mythology?" she asked, taking the oddly colored red knight and twirling it in her fingers fondly. Alfred blinked back a bit in utter confusion, setting him off balance enough to actually answer her.

"Not much really" America admitted, glancing between Eris and England. She tilted her head back a bit to stare down her nose at Alfred condescendingly with a smile that made it seem that she was part of some inside joke that the North American nation was not privy to. Alfred did not like it. She tilted her head and rested it in her palm over the arm of her chair.

"Then tell me what you know of power. As a nation that should mean a great deal to you. And as one of the leading superpowers of the age it should mean even more." Alfred quirked a brow in both confusion and intrigue.

"Power is the ability to influence the course of events in whatever way you see fit. I have one of the strongest militaries in the world and the most advanced weapons. I'm the hero, I have to be strong" Alfred crossed his arms and gave a proud, dare he say heroic smile. Eris seemed unimpressed.

"You really think your title or your armies give you power?" she challenged. "Then tell me, between you and I who has more power?" she slammed the knight down on the center of the board.

Alfred snorted, his newly found confidence giving him a boost of morale. "Of course I do. You're human, I have lived and will live far longer than you, my physical strength is more than you could ever hope to have, I have the support of the whole of the United States of America at my back, and my body spans one of the largest countries in the world. Realistically there is very little you could do that would have any real and lasting harm on me." Alfred leaned back in his chair, smug.

Eris started giggling. "You really are so young aren't you"

"I'm really not" Alfred frowned. Being called young was one of his biggest pet peeves.

"Oh but you are. More than you realize" she leaned forward across the table and lightly took the tie America wore under his bomber jacket in her hand, feeling the fabric. She twisted it in her grip. "So very young and naive. In comparison to other nations you are barely half their age and in comparison to the very earth on which you live, your life doesn't even approach a fraction of its' longevity. Allow me now to further educate you." In one swift motion her grip on the tie became vice-like and she yanked it forward with surprising force. Alfred was so caught off guard by the change in demeanor that he was sent reeling into the table and was forced to brace his hands on the table, cutting his palms a bit on the white chess pieces as he sent them clattering to the ground. His cheek flush against the board Alfred glared up and Eris' sadistic grin. He tried to rise, but all she did was twist the tie a certain way and the garment would cut off his air supply causing Alfred to see stars. After a few attempts to rise America ceased his fruitless struggling in order to avoid blacking out which he decided would have been an even bigger affront to his dignity. _'Well, there goes my pride. At least Iggy isn't awake to see this.'_

"Now then" Eris reached forward with her free hand and started petting America's hair, careful to avoid Nantucket. Her touch was surprisingly gently, it reminded Alfred of how Arthur used to do the same thing when he was a child. "Let's take stock of the situation shall we? The United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland lies dead at my command." Alfred growled in frustration as he looked back to England's body. "The United States of America is recumbent before me" she looked down at him triumphantly again. "And let's make this absolutely clear, you could try but neither one of you are leaving this place until I allow it." She leaned down so that her lips brushed Alfred's ear. "So tell me mighty hero, who has the power here?"Alfred made no sound and refused to make eye contact with Eris either. After waiting a moment to see if Alfred would reply she sat back up straight and released her grip on Alfred's tie so that the young nation could sit up. "Let me explain something to you" she began once America had recomposed himself, a thoroughly embarrassed flush on his cheeks. She replaced the red knight to its original place. "Power is ever shifting. It belongs to no one but can be seized by any under the right circumstances."

"And what would those be?" Alfred asked.

"Three things" she said while looking down at the black pieces before her. "The first, is knowledge" she reached down and plucked one of the black bishops from the board and placed it before Alfred. "If you know your enemies and know yourself, you will not be imperiled in a hundred battles. Do you know who said that?" Eris finally looked back up at America, piercing him with her violet gaze.

"Sun Tzu, _The Art of War_" he answered back. Eris smiled in approval.

"Arthur would be surprised and proud to learn you knew that." Her smile turned reminiscent for a moment before looking down at the board again. "The second key, is resolve." She plucked a rook and placed it a few squares to the side of the bishop. "We are nothing without want. Desire is what drives all forward whether human or nation. When two forces are evenly matched whoever has the greater resolve will surely gain victory."

"I suppose that's true" Alfred allowed and Eris hummed in agreement.

"And finally" she took the black queen and stood it before both the bishop and the rook, "is opportunity."

"Opportunity?"

"Of course." She waved a hand as if to dismiss his doubt. "Power, like energy can neither be created or destroyed. In order for a new force to rise there must be a power vacuum of some kind. For one legacy to begin another must fall." She looked up at Alfred again seriously. "You must know this. How else, but without these three attributes could thirteen colonies break free from the most powerful empire of the age?" Eris raised an inquisitive brow. "And grow to become the new world power while the latter's strength began to fade? For America to rise to power England, the British Empire, had to fall from grace."

Alfred flinched and looked to England again. He didn't like talking about the revolution. Most assumed that Arthur was the one who was more sensitive about it but in truth he had made peace with his decline. In reality it was Alfred who still felt lingering pain. It had to happen, both America and England had acknowledged that long ago. But Alfred did not like how he had acted in its aftermath. Denouncing Arthur as his brother had been unnecessary as was throwing his defeat in the man's face after he had literally backed down from the cusp of victory. _'You used to be so great'_ he wished he could take the words back. They were best friends now, but because of what Alfred said that day the same brotherhood the two had once shared was now unattainable. "That was never my intention" Alfred sent a hard glare at Eris' violet eyes with his own piercing blue.

"Because you were ignorant of the effects of your actions. They are yours to take responsibility for nonetheless." Alfred felt a strike of shame at her words as if he was a child caught in a lie. Eris took up the red knight again and held it up to the light shining down from the window, studying the intricate carving on the stained wood. Lapsing into silence.

"What does any of this have to do with Greek mythology?" Alfred asked finally, unwilling to continue down the current path of conversation any longer. Eris stopped turning the knight and looked back at Alfred.

"Hm? Oh, right!" she placed the knight back down carefully. Walking up to a bowl of fruit on a nightstand she returned with two red apples, one in each hand. "Hungry?" she asked, offering one to Alfred. He made no move to take it so she shrugged and placed it down on the table. She then took a small bite out of the other. "You have at least heard of Troy I assume" she looked at him doubtfully and Alfred felt a bit insulted by the unspoken insinuation.

"About Helen and the Trojan Horse? Yeah I have" America wished he knew where she was going with this.

"Do you know why the prince of Troy felt it was his right to take Helen from Sparta?" she took another bite as Alfred shrugged. "It all started with a wedding. Yes, a wedding" she assured at America's odd look. "All of the gods of Olympus were invited to the wedding of a beautiful sea nymph and a mortal." Eris swallowed a piece of apple then, looking down at the fruit, snorted. "All but one. They neglected to invite the Goddess of Discord. Eris."

"Are you trying to tell me you're an ancient reek Goddess?" Alfred asked cautiously. '_She really is nuts!' _But Eris just laughed.

"This coming from you! Ha! No, no I would never be so arrogant as to claim myself divine." She sighed happily. "No I simply took her name." Tossing her apple and catching it in the same hand she continued her story. "Eris felt insulted so she decided to take her revenge." Eris sent America a sidelong glance. "She threw a single golden apple into the midst of the gods. And carved into the that apple were three words 'For the Fairest'. The three goddesses Hera, Athena, and Aphrodite each claimed that by rights the apple belonged to them and beseeched Zeus to declare the victor. But not wishing to anger any of them, Zeus dictated the judgement to the Trojan Prince. But humans are weak and easily manipulated. Each goddess attempted to buy his favor and in the end he sided with Aphrodite in exchange for the most beautiful of all mortal brides. The daughter of Zeus himself, Helen of Sparta." Eris turned to face Alfred completely. "The war that later ensued would engulf both the realms of men and gods, bring about the end of a great city, and end the mortal age of heroes. I think Eris got her revenge don't you" America had the look of someone who had tasted something foul.

"That's stupid. One little prank like that causing so much damage" he shook his head.

"So tell me Alfred, who had the power in that situation?"

"By your definition I suppose Eris did." Alfred allowed.

"That's right. She knew of the vanity of her fellow goddesses; knowledge. She desired revenge and to assure that she would not be forgotten again; resolve. And a wedding took place bringing all her wrongdoers in one place; opportunity." Eris tossed the remains of her apple into the flames of the fireplace America had not realized was lit. Eris stared into the flames as if in a trance. "It is through power that we achieve victory."

"Or at least start a war" Alfred said back with a frown.

Eris just smiled darkly. "And is there no better way proclaim victory America? Than to initiate the beginning of glorious war?"

"You're insane. Why are you telling me all of this? What do you really want?" America stood and balled his hands into fists. For a while Eris said nothing and just stared into the fire. Then she turned on her heel and went to stand beside England brushing the hair from his face.

"He'll wake up tomorrow. That will certainly make things more interesting."

"Answer me!" Alfred demanded, taking a warning step forward.

"I want my vengeance America. I want my war." Alfred's eyes widened. '_She's trying to start a war?' _If that was what she wanted, then having two personified nations at her mercy was a good way to start. She started walking towards him and America took an unconscious step back. She bent over the table and plucked the apple from the table before striding to the door. "I have knowledge, and God himself knows I have the resolve. All I lack is opportunity and you, America, can give that to me." The two stared each other down from opposite sides of the room in silent battle.

"I won't help you start a war" he warned.

"I don't need you to."

"Then what?"

"Like I asked you before, I want you to guess my name."

"What!? How will that help you at all!?" Alfred asked incredulously. All that was running through the nation's mind was that this woman was absolutely batshit insane!

"You'll understand when you figure it out. Just know that only when you do will you be able to leave." With that she tossed Alfred the apple and walked out the door. Alfred could hear it lock. He looked down at the apple and saw words carved into it's skin that sent shivers down his spine. 'From My Victory Will Come War and Death.'

"Yeah. She's completely insane. If she wants me to know her name why doesn't she just tell me? Who is she that her name is so important?" Alfred went to sit at England's bedside and took one cold hand in both of his. Thoughts of how England had claimed to know Eris surfaced in his mind. "How do you know her Arthur? What's your connection to all this?" As expected, Alfred received no answer.

* * *

**Tell me what you think? It would help me to update sooner.**


	3. Chapter 3

**I went back and read my second chapter. Eris came out creepier than I intended. Oops. I'm not super happy with this chapter. It is more of a transition into the next two. Still I hope you enjoy.**

* * *

Some time after the light disappeared from the window of England's room Alfred fell asleep. And while he slept, he dreamed.

* * *

_America felt as though he was observing things from someone else's perspective. Just as he had before with the child. He could feel his body move and speak but had no control over what was done. In this new body America stalked through what seemed to be a castle. He had little opportunity to observe his surroundings though as his body seemed intent on facing straight ahead. That was, of course, until he reached a doorway. A pale hand reached forward and hovered a little over the knob. A shuddering breath, "Here goes" came a voice Alfred recognized as coming from his own pseudo-body. But while it was spoken in some language America did not know or even recognize he found he could understand. Alfred reached down and opened the door. He walked into what looked to be a study with crimson carpeting and many bookshelves and maps spread about. On a gold-trimmed desk was a map with three continents, none of which looking like those Alfred would normally find on a globe. Hunched over the desk, palms spread to flatten the map was a man. Shorter than the body Alfred inhabited, wearing a long red coat similar to England's from his pirate era and had blood red hair. He did not turn to face America._

"_It is rude to enter someone's private chambers uninvited" the shorter man said in that strange language._

"_My apologies brother" a small half-hearted bow. This body had to be the grown version of the child. The voice was the same, deepened, but still belonging to the same person. "I thought on what you said when last we met but I will not change my mind." The man sighed and turned to walk to a roaring fireplace. Alfred tried to make out the man's features but his face was shrouded in shadows. The man looked up above the mantle to what appeared to be a very elegant greatsword mounted on the wall. He reached up and stroked the blade fondly._

"_You will go forward into this foolishness then?" he inquired tiredly._

"_I only claim what is my right" Alfred's body defended._

"_To lie is unbecoming of you" the man turned his back to Alfred and he could feel his host flinch at the rejection. "Call it what it is. Do not try to hide the stench of treachery with the smell of roses. It will fool no one." A great sigh was heaved and the man continued. "I cannot stand with you in this brother but I will not stop you either. The decision is your own. I only hope you are willing to pay the price for your actions." The man that was not Alfred turned and America felt himself fall away from the body and into darkness._

* * *

"Oh bugger all. That short-tempered woman!" Alfred's eyes shot open and he jumped at the sound of England's voice. He smiled down at the Brit who was rubbing a hand over his forehead and couldn't help himself. He jumped the man, hugging him tightly right there on the bed.

"Iggy! You're awake!" England looked absolutely confused for a moment before smiling and patting Alfred's head. America slowly untangled himself from the older nation. "How are you feeling? Are you okay?" Worry etched it's way back onto the American's features.

"Quite alright Alfred don't worry. Headache is worse than a hangover though" he reassured. Then, after slowly sitting up so that his back was against the headboard he looked to America. "I'm sorry about leaving you alone."

Alfred just smiled and shook his head. "Dude, you were shot in the head, there's not much you can do about something like that." An awkward silence followed while England scanned their surroundings and America tried to think about what he should say next.

"So..." England finally broke the silence. "What exactly did I miss during my little recovery period?" At the mention of his injury England started to scratch the side of his head where the bullet had entered. America grimaced.

"Dude England, that woman is absolutely crazy! She was in here talking about ancient myths and power and how she wanted revenge." England started at this last, turning with a confused expression.

"Revenge?"

"Yeah she was talking about how she wanted to start a war." At this England scoffed.

"Of course she does." England shook his head, though to America's confusion a faint smile ghosted over his face momentarily before fading just as quickly as it had appeared. "Anything else?"

America thought for a moment. Trying to recall the important moments of the strange conversation he had had. "She said that to reach her goal she needs me to figure out her name. Somehow that's supposed start something." America held his chin between thumb and forefinger, gazing upward intently. "You know I'm starting to think she's Rumpelstiltskin. Wasn't the name guessing thing his shtick?"

England rolled his eyes. "Pfft. Of course not America. Rumpelstiltskin's a man, everyone knows that." Alfred gave Arthur an odd look.

"...Right. Anway she said we're not going anywhere until I know her name. Oh, and she gave me this." America tossed over the apple. England turned it over in his hand, inspecting the words cut into it and sighed.

"Victoria always was a bit over dramatic" he stated plainly. America jumped to his feet and slammed his palms down on the mattress, causing England to jump slightly.

"That's her name! Oh yeah, you said you knew her before she um... you know" England blushed brilliantly at the reminder of the kiss then pretended to clear his throat while not looking America in the eye.

"Yes, well... Victoria is not actually her name. Like our human names aren't who we really are. It's just what she likes calling herself." America's enthusiasm died instantly.

"So you don't actually know her? And she told me she called herself Eris Discordia."

"Really? Eris huh. Well I do suppose that works as well. Still as valid as Victoria if a bit on the nose. That explains this." England tossed the apple and caught it with the same hand. "And yes I do know her America, her real name. The one she wants you to figure out." Alfred looked hopeful again.

"Then tell me so we can get out of here!"

Silence. "I can't."

"... What?" America's tone was flat.

"I said I can't tell you. On that point Victoria was right, you have to figure this out yourself." America looked almost betrayed.

'Why the hell not! You were about to say before!" England crossed his arms, looking annoyed.

"That was a slip up on my part. I was a bit shocked to see her. It would be too hard to try and explain why I can't tell you so it would be easiest to think of it like a curse. Neither she nor I can reveal her identity to anyone." Alfred's expression was clearly one of skepticism.

"Bullshit" he deadpanned, causing England to immediately rage.

"Do you think I WANT to stay here! Do you think I WANT to keep this a secret! You have no idea how long I've had to hold my tongue about certain things America. So don't you dare doubt me when I say I literally CANNOT tell you!" England's chest was heaving. He was clearly very angry.

In the face of the pure rage before him America deflated. "I-I'm sorry" he backed off.

With a sigh England rubbed his face with his hands, looking completely exhausted. "I can't tell you, but perhaps I can help you work towards the answer.

"Like, answer yes or no?" America asked curiously.

"Hmm. Yes I think that should work." Alfred thought long and hard. There was something he needed to confirm.

"She's not human is she" it was more a statement than a question.

"What makes you say that?"

"I don't know. She definitely isn't a nation. I can tell that. But, there's something about her, something that's not normal."

"You're right, she is not human and she's not a nation either."

"Then what the hell is she?"

"Can't tell you. Sorry." America sighed and leaned back in his chair limply as if exhausted. England rolled his eyes. "Don't tell me you've already tired your brain out Alfred" but America just groaned louder, causing the elder of the two to pinch the bridge of his nose in frustration.

"Whelp!" America suddenly came to life again and started pacing about the room. "This whole 'figure my name out' thing is too complicated but I have a better idea." The Brit looked doubtful to say the least. Watching him carefully he waited for the mask to slip. He knew America better than anyone except maybe Canada, he could tell the difference between his fake and real cheer.

"And what, pray tell, is that?" England shuffled out of bed and walked over to a bookcase that was left of the window and started browsing through the books, seeming decidedly uninterested in whatever the other was up to. It would do the boy no good to have England feed his denial.

"We escape!" America gave a thumbs up to his friend's turned back.

"Won't work." England deadpanned without even sparing a glance back, still reading book titles.

"Why not! I'm the hero, no prison can hold me!" With a quick glance Arthur could see the wisps of desperation in those blue eyes.

"Have you tried the door?" England responded with a question.

"Um, no. But it's just a wooden door. Even if it's locked I'll just break it down." Alfred walked over and tried to turn the handle. Locked. '_Well that wasn't much of a surprise.'_ he decided inwardly. He then gave the door a good shove with his shoulder. Then two, then three. '_Ow'_ yeah that wasn't working. "Haha, that's stronger than it looks. No big deal, I've still got this." America shuffled back several steps and then charged the door with his shoulder leading. As expected, or unexpected in America's case, nothing happened and with a grunt America landed on the flat of his back. He tilted his head to stare at England's back. "Don't. Say. A word." Alfred warned.

"Wasn't going to." Ever the optimist, the young nation had a brilliant thought.

"The window! We'll just climb down using the bed sheets then run like hell!" Not even waiting for a response Alfred flung the stain-glassed window open. And was immediately met with clouds. "The hell!" he exclaimed. As far as the eye could see it appeared that whatever room they were staying in existed well above the cloudline and above was nothing but blue sky. "H-how is that even possible? Shouldn't we be having difficulty breathing or something this high up? England shrugged.

"Don't question it. Now why don't you go back to focusing on thinking of Victoria's true name so we can get out of here hm?" Alfred pouted and slumped back into the chair at the chess table he had been in before.

"Well what about the other countries? Surely they've realized we're gone by now. They'll come rescue us."

England sighed at how his suggestion was shoved aside and turned to face the American, "Think about it America. Are we in the United States?"

"No, I'd be able to feel it if we were."

"Exactly, and we're not anywhere in the United Kingdom either I can tell you that. Which means we have to be in one of the other countries. They should be able to feel us. But we have to have been here for at least a few days."

"Your point?" America didn't get what the Brit was implying.

"If they could feel us they would have come by now." At America's uncomprehending look he elaborated. "I'm saying that wherever we are, it is a place that is somehow disconnected from the nations. A place that does not have a personification." The last of the false hope Alfred had been holding onto was snuffed out. The young nation visibly shrank into himself and his grin died. The mask had slipped.

Arthur came to sit behind the black king opposite to Alfred. A cold shiver went down America's spine as Arthur reached up and took the, possibly misplaced, white knight in his hand, thumb brushing over the intricate carvings of the horse head. "Then... what do we do? I don't think I can figure this out." A sad look swept over England's face at how the normally confident nation before him acknowledged his own weakness. Alfred suddenly looked up. "And what if she decides to hurt you again? I wasn't able to do anything before! I... can't watch you die again... I can't." Alfred reached a hand up and rubbed furiously at his eyes. Catching the hiding tears before they could fall with a sniff.

Suddenly America felt a hand rubbing comforting circles on his back and looked up to see England kneeling beside him with an immeasurable look of hidden pain. "You don't have to worry Alfred. She won't hurt either of us again. I promise you." False hope. That was all this was. Why was England lying to him? It made Alfred angry.

"Don't lie to me!" America jumped to his feet and shoved the elder nation away, sending him sprawling onto the floor. England coughed at having the air knocked out of him. Hearing his friend in distress Alfred turned and paled at what he had accidentally done. "Arthur! Oh my god I'm so sorry!" America raced over and pulled the other to his feet. England just waved off his concern and brushed himself off.

"I'm not made of glass you know. You're just freakishly strong. Though I'll admit I'm not as durable as I used to be" England japed, but his lighthearted tone did not reach America. '_How else could thirteen colonies break free from the most powerful empire of the age and grow to become the new world power while the latter's strength began to fade? For America to rise to power England, the British Empire, had to fall from grace.' _America looked away, feeling sick. It was true wasn't it. And it made him feel like a parasite. "..fred... Alfred!" America jumped, finally realizing that England had been trying to get his attention and was snapping his fingers in front of the young nation's face.

"Huh?"

"Are you alright? You kind of blanked out on me." America nodded with an apologetic look.

"How do you know she won't hurt us again?" he decided to ask after a moment. In the younger's opinion this Eris, or Victoria, or whatever was far too unstable to assume she wouldn't try to hurt one of them again.

England's expression darkened somewhat but he spoke as calmly as ever. "You don't know her like I do. If you did you would understand her actions. She was angry for more than one reason. But trust me on this. Her anger is spent. Victoria has no desire to do us harm. She is just trying to recover something that was taken away from her a long time ago." Alfred looked at England like he had grown a second head. Was he seriously trying to defend the psycho who had him shot?

"Reason or not she's evil." Arthur actually laughed at that.

He laughed happily as if he didn't have a care in the world. "Evil? No America, she is not evil. Tell me, would you call a storm evil because it ravages those who happen to be beneath it when it passes by?"

"No."

"Victoria is like a storm. A force of nature. She isn't evil. It is in her nature to be volatile, harsh, and unpredictable. Her favor can grant untold fortune and her ire bring great men to their ruin. Savage, perhaps. Dangerous, without a doubt. But never evil." America thought on this and suddenly he had another question for his ex-brother.

"Is she a personification?"

"Of sorts, yes." America nodded as he tried to piece together what he knew about Eris and what he had been told. A personification. But not of a nation. What would a personification gain from a war? And why target America and England? Then again, she and Arthur clearly knew each other. The two retook their seats at the chess table.

"You know her from a long time ago don't you?" The elder nodded in affirmation.

America took a deep breath then asked, "from before you knew me?" England's body went rigid. Ah, so he had struck the nail on the head there. That would explain why England knew her and America did not. Why she looked at him like she knew his every dark secret. She would have known Arthur when he was in his heyday as a pirate. Would have seen how his empire crumbled away after America broke from him and began his own rise to power.

"Yes."

"And she is obsessed with power?"

"No I wouldn't say obsessed. More so that the flux of power influences her more than she would like. She is almost a slave to it. And it breaks her sometimes." Sadness. That was what America saw in the pools of England's eyes.

"How about a game?" America asked of the elder. Attempting to distract him from what Alfred had inadvertently dug up.

"Why not. It's not like we have much else to do." England gestured for Alfred who sat behind the white king to make the first move and he did so. America took the cream colored knight and jumped the piece forward before the pawns. Arthur frowned at the move. And something darker ghosted across his eyes.

"What?"

"Nothing it's just..." England did not get to finish what he was going to say. The locked door swung open and Eris walked in again. She glanced over at the chess table where the two sat, and upon seeing America's move, scowled. Seriously? What was wrong with that? Arthur rose from his seat calmly while America jumped up so fast his chair was knocked over.

Alfred stepped between Eris and England, pulling the island nation behind him in a protective manner and glared dangerously at the calm woman. Eris raised a brow but made no other move towards the two men. After a minute of nothing but knowing stares between the three inhabitants of the room Eris finally spoke. "Scared much?" Alfred cringed at how easily she mocked his terror.

"Victoria stop it. I think you've tortured the poor boy enough." Arthur spoke like a scolding parent and Eris rolled her eyes before turning her attention to focus solely on the Englishman. The Brit moved away from America's protective hold and stepped in front of the silver-haired woman, not looking frightened in the least. In fact, being in her presence he seemed to make him stand taller, more confident. Like back in his Empire days.

Eris matched England's posture with an equally confident stance and stalked forward until the two were nearly nose to nose, staring each other down with clashing eyes. Sparkling violet and vibrant green. They stood at nearly the same height, with England edging just a bit taller. "Awake at last. Ever the noble protector aren't you Arthur?" she asked, her eyes flashing a deep hurt before returning to cool confidence.

"I would do anything to prevent those close to me from being hurt." Arthur's hard look softened a bit and suddenly America felt like he was intruding on some private moment.

"A shame our deepest desires are the ones that damn us. Else I would want for nothing but for that which you wish to be fulfilled. For it is the same as mine." She stepped forward and reached an arm up to cup Arthur's cheek. But unlike their first meeting he did not flinch or squirm away. He even seemed to lean in to her touch. His own hand was lifted up to rest over hers. Eris smiled so sweetly and carefreely that Alfred wondered if this was really the same woman who had struck fear into his very soul upon their first encounter.

"Umm-"

"Care to excuse us America?" Eris asked in a tone that was more of an order than a request. She did not once look away from the older nation.

Alfred looked to England to see his reaction to this. To his surprise the older nation merely gave her an odd look but raised no objection. Well, even if he was for some reason okay with this Alfred was not. "No way in hell I'm leaving you alone with him. If I remember correctly you KILLED him last time." Eris grimaced, finally turning to glare at the American.

"Do you know my name yet child?" she asked condescendingly.

"No." America answered back with a bit of a waver in his voice. Still not understanding the importance of her name.

"Then you have no right to object. You know nothing boy. You couldn't even begin to understand the events taking place around you. I have already said I have no further intention of hurting either of you. Or do I need to threaten harm to earn simple cooperation." At her words Eris pulled what looked like a steel arrowhead from somewhere in her clothes with her free hand and held its honed edge to Arthur's throat. A small trickle of blood started to spill down the arrowhead, traced Eris' arm and immediately stained her white blouse. Still England did not seem frightened. America swallowed nervously, flicking his gaze between the two.

"England I-"

"It's alright America." Arthur shifted slightly so he could look over his shoulder to face the nervous wreck that was the young superpower. "Trust me. She will not hurt me." To demonstrate he lifted his hand from hers at his cheek and carefully placed it around the wrist holding the arrowhead. America watched dumbfounded as England calmly pulled the arm away and Eris retracted the crude weapon. The cut on the island's neck healed almost instantly.

Eris looked up at England with a small smile and then a pout. "Spoiling my fun again aren't you."

"I already said to stop torturing him Victoria. It won't help you nearly as much as you seem to think it will." The woman huffed but simply flicked her hair and went to sit on the bed. Making herself comfortable.

"Fine. I'll leave you and _Victoria _alone." Alfred meant nothing by using Eris' other name that England always referred to her with. But the reaction he received he never could have imagined.

For a moment all was still. Then, from where she sat on the bed Alfred saw Eris clench her fists in the silk sheets of the bed. And her violet eyes widened slightly right before narrowing dangerously. Alfred could have sworn her pupils constricted into slits and a snarl ripped through her. Sounding almost animalistic before she launched herself at him. America was caught so off guard he stumbled back and fell to the ground. Luckily for the superpower though, England had somehow foreseen this change and jumped behind her, wrapping his longer arms around her arms and waist and pinning her against his chest as she thrashed.

"Wh-what the hell?" Alfred asked in a terrified voice.

"ERIS! Call me Eris, not Victoria. Never Victoria to you!" She was screaming at him. Pulling hard against England's hold but somehow the island nation held her back. "You lost the right to call me Victoria you backstabbing bastard!" America was frozen in stunned fear. He had no idea what Eris was referring to. Could this have something to do with the revolution she had brought up before?

"America get out of here now!" England cursed under his breath as Eris nearly broke free of his hold. But unfortunately for the older man Alfred was still trying to understand what was going on and did not heed the other's words.

"I-Is this about the revolution?" he finally asked what he hypothesized was the cause of all this.

"THE REVOLUTION!" she screeched at him incredulously. "What you have done makes any petty rebellion an insignificant speck on the stain that is you sin!" Alfred paled at the condemnation in her voice. What could he have possibly done?

"Alfred! Leave. Now!" England glared at the American over the hysterical woman's shoulder. In his voice was the angry, authoritative tone he had not had used on him since he had been England's rebellious colony. And like in those days he felt compelled to obey. Swallowing his fear and confusion America scrambled to his feet and made for the door, shooting his former mentor a nervous glance before stepping into the hallway and shutting the door behind him. He had no choice but to trust that Arthur was telling the truth when he said Eris would not harm him.

But just to make sure he pressed an ear against the closed wood and strained to hear anything from within. If England was in any danger he would be sure to charge in and be the hero he was failing spectacularly at being so far. But to his surprise all he heard was the sound of Eris crying. He could hear the pained sobs coming from within and was shocked to find that the sound was filled with such heartbreak and grief that guilt was flooding his system from some unknown source. But along with that guilt was also a warring sense of deep-rooted apathy that frightened him. And amongst the cries, were the sounds of soothing noises coming from Arthur. He was comforting her. For some reason England was attempting to ease her pain.

America turned and ran. Ran from the surreal situation, from his conflicting emotions. Not even realizing that the walls that were once dull and grey, were now as furnished and exuberant as the castle walls of his dream.

* * *

**Eris/Victoria's personality seems to change so quickly doesn't it? Fear not. There is a reason for everything. Can anyone guess who Eris really is? The next chapter will be from England and Eris' point of view! Please tell me what you think. It will help me update faster!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Thanks to everyone who gave their guess as to who Eris/Victoria really is. Keep guessing! No one has got it quite yet. No America in this chapter. Like I said before this is from England and Victoria's points of view. First time writing a scene like this, probably going to be the only one in this story, so I hope it isn't too bad. Enjoy!**

* * *

_July, 1588_

_She watched him stand there upon the cliff. The dark of the night made a shadow by the light of the bright summer moon. Its' silver glow cascading down upon the waves and glistening off his golden hair. Tall and proud, but fearful nonetheless. She could not blame him. His dearest queen, his people, his very life was in jeopardy and it looked as if he was alone and without hope. She stood at his back, watching the red coat flutter in the wind as he made his silent vigil. Eyeing the horizon. Waiting for the Empire of the Sun to come down on him. But she knew something he did not. _

_Stalking up behind him she stood at his side and wrapped her arms around him, resting her cheek on his shoulder. She shut her eyes to black out his new and fragile form. In the darkness she could remember. She could forget. The woman tried not to feel disappointed when her embrace was not returned. He could not feel or see her after all. But still, she was there, and his fluttering heartbeat slowed at her touch. "Why do you forsake me?" Violet eyes shot open at the words from the one she held. They were spoken with such pain, such betrayal, that she wished to weep. But as long as he remained strong she would as well. She watched him stare up longingly at the silver moon. Silver like her hair. Could he remember? No. That was impossible. But who else could he be crying out to this night? It didn't matter. He needed none other. Even if all the world turned against him, she would remain ever at his side. And she would be enough._

"_Fear not." She lifted a hand to his cheek and he closed his eyes. Almost as if he could feel her; she liked to think in some way he did. "Do you think I would ever give my favor to Spain?" She shook her head and gave a sad smile. Releasing him from her embrace she stepped forward until her feet brushed the air before the white cliffs. She looked over one shoulder and saw that he had opened his eyes again. And a green that seemed to glow against the light of the moon stared straight ahead to where she stood. She liked to think he saw her. A grin crawled onto her face and she looked ahead again. He had the right of it. It was no good looking elsewhere. Straight ahead, face the enemy. That was their way. "As always I will go before you this night. And in all the nights to follow. And you will not fail" was her proclamation. _

_She raised her arms to the sky and at her behest the winds began to stir. They whipped through the trees and the waves, and the mighty ships who meant harm to her favored one. Lightning flashed, and thunder rolled through the night like the sky itself had become a gargantuan drum drawn taut and beat at her command. This was her power. Unmatched and unrelenting. And when the great storm had been summoned to her liking she lowered her arms and went to face him. Oh he looked so beautiful standing there. His hair windswept and face alight in shock and hope. She placed a chaste kiss on his slightly parted lips and stood behind him, whispering in his ear. _

"_Remember, I will never forsake you. Where you lack strength I will be your power. My storm is now your bow. Use it to strike down your enemies from afar so you might bring them to their knees." A presence somewhere in her mind warned her that her time was nearly up. She had to return home and leave him behind on Earth. She had no choice. "None but you deserve to become the empire on which the sun never sets. I will make it so." She whispered her promise in his ear and then faded from his side. Gone for now, but ever vigilant of his fate._

"_Victoria..." he whispered into the wind._

* * *

"THE REVOLUTION!" Eris screeched at Alfred incredulously. "What you have done makes any petty rebellion an insignificant speck on the stain that is you sin!" England watched his former colony pale at the way she condemned him. To the young man her anger was all but unfounded. After all, he had no recollection of why Eris hated him so much

Sensing that his presence would only further inflame Victoria's rage, England decided to put an end to it. "Alfred! Leave. Now!" The authority of a conqueror. The island nation felt the power in his voice the minute he commanded America leave. Alfred scrambled away quickly, helpless to resist the compulsion to obey. Victoria always brought out that side of him. It was what assured him of her presence. Let him know that she was there, beside him. Even if he could not see her.

For a moment longer the woman in England's arms continued to thrash and roar in outrage. But as soon as the door shut and she was separated from the object of her indignation her body began to shake, and before Arthur could even register the change she was crying. She began to sob uncontrollably and her legs buckled, pulling both her and Arthur to the ground with a dull thud. Still he held her. Rubbing her arms with his hands and resting his head on her shoulder he leaned in to her. "Shh. Shh. Victoria calm down. Calm down." England shut his eyes to hold back his own pain. Victoria needed him to be strong for her. He was born to be the sword; but for her he would be the shield as well. Her cries slowly silenced, and she turned in his hold to embrace him. He held her just as tightly and rubbed comforting circles in her back. When she calmed down Arthur pulled away and the two stared into one another's eyes. Weighing the memories shadowed there. Both light and dark.

A brief instant of understanding overcame them and they allowed a millennium of bottled emotions loose. Arthur followed Victoria to his feet and she attacked his mouth with her own. He did not even have to ask for entrance before his tongue slipped into her awaiting opening and she willingly succumbed to his dominance. For a while she allowed him to plunder her mouth before she fought back and both were consumed by the dance. Victoria's hands traced up his sides until they met with his hair and tangled into his messy locks. Not wishing to stand any longer she wrapped one spidery leg around his waist and then the other. Arthur's hands shot to her waist in order to better support the weight and he carried the woman in his arms towards the awaiting bed.

He walked until his legs met with the desired furniture and the two sprawled onto the anticipated sheets. He was straddled over her, knees on either side of Victoria's waist and one arm bent by her head and wrapped in her hair while the other felt its way down her shirt until it came to the hem of the clothing. She moaned at the sensation of his touch and he at hers. Her hands left Arthur's hair and traced the curve of his spine down to its base and then back up. And when they reached the collar of his uniform she broke her lips away from his and placed them instead at the juncture of his jaw and neck, nipping and sucking the spot. Intent to leave her mark on him. He returned the gesture right above her collarbone. With one swift tug she tore open his bloodstained uniform and the shirt underneath, and tossed the torn garments aside. Leaving his chest bare before her, as well as his back.

The two became still and Arthur propped himself up over her with both hands. He remained motionless, holding her piercing purple gaze as she let her hands explore. First his face, then over his shoulders, until they reached two familiar scars. Scars far older than any of the others. Two identical jagged marks starting a few inches apart at the base of his neck to between his hip and shoulder blade. Almost forming an inverted 'V'. Arthur shuddered at the touch. Victoria's fingers lingered there for a moment before curving around to his front and back up his chest. Then down his arms until they touched his hands. "Not like this" she whispered.

Propping one leg up behind him and bucking her hips she flipped their positions and Victoria was now straddled over Arthur. Her hair came loose from the restrictive cord holding it up and tumbled over her shoulder, in a waterfall of silver and black. She gazed down at him as he lay over the red sheets. Yes, he always looked best to her in red. "You really haven't changed have you?" she asked quietly. Desperately.

Arthur felt a pang in his heart. '_Of course I have. Just not the way you fear.'_ He lifted himself up just enough to place a quick kiss on her lips before falling back onto the bed. He made no reply to her inquiry. Unable to lie, but unwilling to say the truth as well. Leaning her weight down on his legs Victoria lifted Arthur's hands and placed them back at the hem of her shirt. After receiving a slight nod from her, England began to lift the shirt until it was over her head and joined the torn clothing of his uniform on the floor. From where he lay, Arthur could just see the tips of the arrows over her shoulders and at her sides that marked the edges of her tattoo.

He let his hands roam over the inked skin. "This is new."

Victoria leaned forward until their bodies were flush against one another. "Does it displease you?" she asked worriedly, one hand sneaking south.

England jolted at the sudden sensation. "Nngh. No." He caught her hand and pulled it back up, though its work had already been done. "Actually I'm glad you are finally accepting that part of yourself." She hummed in understanding. "Are you sure about this?" he asked, not releasing his grip on her. The last thing he wanted was to hurt her in any way. And that was all he could see this ending in. Immeasurable hurt and pain.

She looked at him in confusion. "Of course I am."

"But I can't hold you the way I used to. I'm not that strong anymore." They shared equal looks of mournful longing.

Suddenly, Arthur saw the glint of an idea spark in Victoria's eyes. She grinned and shifted her position to whisper in his ear. "Say my name." Understanding dawned on him. Turning his head so that his lips pressed into the ridge of her ear, he whispered the word. As soft and silent as a psalm and in a language long lost and nearly forgotten. She shivered at the sound of her name on his lips. England felt the power the name held. It pulsed between them. Victoria propped herself above Arthur in such a way that their legs were still entangled and only her midsection and above were parted from him. The island nation relished the way she gazed at him.

"Again" she commanded of him and he gladly obeyed. Speaking her name once again England heard her moan and felt her grind her hips against him. Victoria sighed and a hand went to Arthur's chest. He gasped. Power, pure and raw, surged into his body through her fingers and his back arched up against her touch, longing for more.

"Ah! Victoria!" he had no choice but to reverse positions once again. He rolled the both of them over and once again placed himself over her. Heat surged through his veins from her hand like a fire. It felt amazing. In the reflection of Victoria's eyes he could see the way his golden hair had become shocked with streaks of scarlet. At his back he felt the ghost of two long since missing appendages unfurl and flex.

From beneath him Victoria eyed Arthur lustfully, her arm still extended so her palm lay flat against his chest. Feeding the power now flowing through him. Her second hand curled around his head and her fingers tangled in his newly darkened locks. Pulling him down into another kiss Arthur couldn't help but moan her name again. She bucked her hips at that and broke the kiss for just a moment to whisper another name in his ear. His own.

Older than the United Kingdom. Older than England. Older than Albion.

At the sound of his truest name Arthur lost all control. His renewed strength and Victoria's wanton calls driving him to the edge. "Don't hold yourself back" she urged as he threw off the remainder of his clothing and tore off hers, never once breaking contact between their lips any more than necessary. One arm remaining to keep him lifted above her, Arthur used his other to trace down Victoria's side until his hand reached her thigh. He lifted her leg around his waist and she happily raised the other to match. And when there was nothing left between them, they allowed their bodies to become one.

* * *

Victoria lay across Arthur's chest, ear resting over his heart as she quietly listened to it's slow beating. How different it was to the rapid, thundering pace it had been not long ago, but soothing. Arthur was always the one to soothe her. And she the one to bring out the primal potential in him. Shifting slightly to look up at him Victoria ran gentle fingers through his golden hair; the scarlet long since faded. He looked so peaceful to her, sleeping soundly. A soft smile rested on her lips as he unconsciously turned his head to lean into her hand. She snuggled in closer to him and felt warmth at how his arm was wrapped securely around her, holding her close against his chest even in sleep.

"Hmm. Victoria." He sleepily muttered her name before his green eyes slowly blinked open to awareness. '_How cute' _she thought to herself. At meeting her gaze, Arthur smiled before sliding back against the bed so that his back was to the headboard and he was now in a seated position, Victoria still tucked securely between his chest and arm.

"Awake again?" she asked.

"Unfortunately." Victoria frowned at that.

"Why unfortunately?"

Arthur smiled down at her and Eris relaxed slightly. "I was dreaming."

"What of?"

The one who held her thought for a moment before answering. "The Spanish Armada." Victoria's eyes widened slightly.

"How is that something you would prefer to being here?"

Arthur chuckled a little at the way Victoria's brows furrowed in confusion. "I don't know. But that night the storms first came, I could swear I felt you there. It was you who sent the storm wasn't it?" She did not answer with words but the soft kiss she pressed over his heart was enough for him to know that he had been correct. "I thought so."

"So you remembered me even then?" she wondered. "I feel silly acting like we had never met back when you first got here now." Arthur rolled his eyes likely in memory of the theatrics Eris had utilized.

"You _should_ feel silly. And it's not that I remembered you. I never forgot." Victoria felt a deep pang of guilt shoot through her heart at that. '_So long.'_

"So you knew, the entire time?" he nodded.

"Before that night, I had thought perhaps you had come to favor Antonio over me." He buried his face in her hair and she fought to control herself as she felt silent tears begin to wet her flowing locks. She shut her own violet orbs and reached a hand back behind her to cup his cheek.

"None could ever replace you. I came in your time of need did I not?"

"Yes you did." The two lapsed into silence once more, Victoria traced the line of scars along the front of Arthur's body. Those that are naturally gathered along the course of a nation's life. The long lines across his stomach from his civil wars, the dark burn that was left from the burning of London and the Blitz. Meanwhile, she felt her muscles relax at how Arthur was caressing her hair. The moment was perfect. But for all things there is a season. And the moment ended.

Arthur's ministrations ceased. "Victoria." His voice was tired and stern. Unwilling to part with him, Eris curled up closer into his chest and hugged him close.

"Yes?"

He breathed out slowly through his nose. "Why are you doing all this?"

She grimaced out of his view. "Can't you imagine why I might want to bring this farce to an end? I have had enough of watching. I want to be back in your arms. I need you." She pressed her face into his neck and whispered too quiet for him to hear, "and you need me. You need me to save you."

Leaning back down to his chest Victoria saw the nation tilt his head back and stare up at the canopy of the bed in slight exasperation. The stallion embroidered there drawing his gaze. "Then tell me why you are tormenting Alfred." His gaze went back down to her and in his eyes she saw the protective instinct that had become such a strong part of his nature. But just as much as the need to protect his younger brother was evident in him, Victoria's terrifying and righteous anger was evident in her.

Eyes narrowing in rage one hand shot up to wrap around Arthur's throat and pin him against the headboard with a rough thud. Apart from a slight wince of pain though his expression remained the same. He met her gaze and dared her answer his question. '_You know me too well.' _"Don't call him that name. It is not his, you changed it. If you must, call him America." She tightened her grip slightly and Arthur was forced to lift his head slightly to keep his airway open.

"The world has already damned his name. He has a new life here so he deserved a new name." Victoria felt her lip curl in disgust.

"Perhaps in your opinion. To me I think he deserves to lay in the bed he made himself."

"I believe we're getting off topic" Arthur interjected. Right, he wanted to know why she was doing everything in her power to make the boy suffer.

She released his neck and sank back down onto his chest and lap. "He deserves it for what he did." At the mention of that day she curled somewhat into herself and her hands clawed at Arthur. Clinging to him.

Arthur's hand slipped into her own and she clutched onto it desperately. "His punishment was already dictated" he reminded her.

"But it is not nearly enough for me."

"Yet for some reason it is me who gets shot and strangled" he mentioned with an annoyed look.

Victoria pouted. "You recall that I am forbidden from harming America. And you and I both know that he cares about what happens to you. How else might I make him suffer? Besides, of all the pains and deaths you have suffered you can hardly call what I've done the worst of them." He made a gesture of acceptance at that. '_You know I could never truly mean you harm. Not like him.' _But Arthur was understandably still upset about the whole situation.

"Well stop. Like I said, hurting him like this will not get you what you want." Victoria nodded her head and breathed a sigh of relief at how Arthur then wrapped her tightly into a hug, resting his head in her hair. "Promise me Victoria."

"Very well, I promise. He need not fear me hurting you." A thought crossed Victoria's mind. "When did you know it was him?" Arthur looked down at her in confusion.

"When did I realize America was..." she nodded. "From the moment I first saw him in that field. I would recognize him anywhere." Victoria was not surprised. Of all of them their youngest brother had always been closest to Arthur.

"And you took him in anyway. Knowing he would hurt you. Knowing what he had done, what he is still going to do." Victoria's heart sped up in fear of what she alluded to. Arthur swallowed thickly.

"Yes." After some time he asked, "what about you?"

Victoria shook away the dread in the pit of her stomach. "I'm afraid I was never so close to him. Of course during his revolution I suspected when I could do nothing to curb his success. But I didn't realize it was him until... I think it was... in the eighth month of 1945. Who but him could wreak such great and terrible destruction? He all but proclaimed his identity that day."

Another moment of silence passed again before Arthur spoke once more. "Does _he _know you are doing this?" Victoria happily accepted the change in topic.

"Hmph. Our brother knows all of what happens. Whether he deems it necessary to act or not is another matter entirely. And he seems content to let me do as I please." A teasing glint sparked in Arthur's eyes. It made Victoria smile back in challenge. "What?"

"Perhaps he doesn't believe you will be successful in your endeavor?" Victoria laughed, a bell-like tone to her voice.

"Right" she said sarcastically, flicking Arthur's nose. "I always win."

"Pride goes before the fall" he reminded cheekily and she smiled.

"Is it really pride if I am simply stating a truth? It is impossible for me to undertake a task in which I do not foresee my own success." Victoria kissed Arthur's lips again. "I cannot lose." '_I will not lose you.'_

"In that case, isn't there someone else you should be spending time with besides me? How is America supposed to find your name if you are here with me?"

Victoria lightly shook her head. "Unnecessary. This place... it carries enough memories for him to do my work for me. All I need is for him to find the right clues, and everything will fall into place." Victoria could already see how this would end. Arthur thought he understood what she wanted, but he was wrong. Her desires were much simpler, more forgivable than what he imagined of them.

"Then what do you intend to do while you wait for him to remember? Our presence here, America and I, it is sure to draw them in legion." Victoria saw the hint of worry in Arthur eyes.

"Don't worry, my men and I can handle them. As long as the two of you stay within these walls you will be safe." He frowned.

"And what if I do not wish to be protected? What if I desire to ride into battle at your heel as I used to?" Victoria caressed his cheek sadly.

"And you will again. But for now trust me."

"Very well. I trust you." She smiled.

"I'm glad." Silence followed once more. "Speaking of which. How long do you think until he figures it out? As much as I like watching him flounder about in confusion, I would like to have everything come to a conclusion this side of eternity." Arthur chuckled and tilted his head in thought a bit before looking back straight into her eyes.

"Well. I suppose that depends."

"On what?"

"On how long he has been listening into this conversation."

* * *

**Uh oh, looks like someone got caught eavesdropping! And we are somewhat introduced to a new threat. Next we will go back to America's perspective. This chapter was a lot harder to write than I anticipated. Please tell me what you think. It will help me update faster!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Alright, so this chapter will be back in America's point of view and takes place at the same time as the previous one. Enjoy!**

* * *

_ America turned and ran. Ran from the surreal situation, from his conflicting emotions. Not even realizing that the walls that were once dull and grey, were now as furnished and exuberant as the castle walls of his dream. _

Alfred couldn't say for certain how long he ran for. It could have been a few minutes it could have been an hour. But he did not stop until his chest was heaving and sweat poured down his head. Bringing a hand up to his chest America pulled loose his restrictive tie and tore the stupid thing off. He leaned against the stone wall and let his forehead rest against the cool stone until he caught his breath. Then, realizing that he had just ran away with no regard for what direction he was moving in he tried to get a good look of his surroundings. How had he gotten there again?

He remembered climbing a set of stairs at some point, turning who knows how many corners, and even passing through a few doors. Oddly enough, he realized, he had not once come across a dead end or locked door. His feet had seemed to carry him through this odd place by some will of their own. Like some part of him knew exactly where he was going. '_That being said. I have no clue where I am or how to get back.' _Alfred scratched the back of his head and looked back the way he had come. He saw nothing but stone walls and a carpeted floor that served to soften his footsteps. There was no sign of any of Eris' minions or anything else familiar. The walls had been slate grey and plain before! Now they were furnished with hanging paintings of various landscapes and even well-polished suits of armor. He felt like he was in a Medieval Times show.

But then, as he turned to face the way he had come something tickled at the back of his mind. The hallway... something about it. Looked familiar. Walking forward Alfred felt as if something were drawing him. He turned.

_He had little opportunity to observe his surroundings though as his body seemed intent to face straight ahead. That was, of course, until he reached a doorway. A pale hand reached forward and hovered a little over the knob. _

His dream. This was the same doorway. Swallowing back a nervous pit in his throat Alfred let his hand rest on the brass handle and turn.

_A shuddering breath, "Here goes."_

"Here goes" He opened the door and stepped inside.

_He walked into what looked to be a study with crimson carpeting and many bookshelves and maps spread about. On a gold-trimmed desk was a map with three continents, none of which looking like those Alfred would normally find on a globe._

The air was stale, as if the wooden door had not been opened in far, far too long. Deep shadows fell over a worn desk with rolls upon rolls of scrolls which Alfred knew to be maps. Alfred heard the creak of the wooden door as it struck the wall upon opening. A deep crimson carpet was frayed and worn where in his memory-dream they had been brightly colored and splendid. The bookshelves too had been thrown into disarray, their contents scattered about and torn asunder. '_It all looks so sad.' _Walking up to the dark fireplace, Alfred rested a hand on the mantle and looked up to where he knew he would find a sword. The blade had lost its luster, becoming chipped and rusted, looking more brittle than anything. America feared even to touch it, lest the weapon crumble.

_Hunched over the desk, palms spread to flatten the map was a man. Shorter than the body Alfred inhabited, wearing a long red coat similar to England's from his pirate era and had blood red hair_

As foolish and clearly fruitless as it was, Alfred scanned the room. There was no sign of the man he had seen in his dream. Or that he had even been in his, for this was clearly his, study at any time in recent days, weeks, or years. Dread settled in America's mind. What had happened to the man that he would not come here? Nothing good he decided.

"What happened here?" he wondered aloud. The rest of whatever castle, mansion-thing this place was had been well-kept and beautiful. But this room alone seemed to be in ruins.

'_Then again, how could I have dreamed of this place? I've never been here before.' _

A cold feeling settled in his heart, and America felt as though he was not alone.

"**You don't really believe that do you?" **_came a voice Alfred recognized as coming from his own pseudo-body. But while it was spoken in some language America did not know or even recognize he found he could understand._

Alfred spun on his heel towards the sound of the familiar voice. "Who's there?" he found himself facing the opposite wall to the fireplace and found a large standing mirror he had not noticed before. And carved into the top of its frame was the word _Seauto_. Walking towards the mirror America found that the shadows of the room seemed to coalesce and hide whatever was reflected in its surface. Despite that though, America knew someone was there. '_I-Is it a ghost?' _Alfred gulped and took a few small steps back towards the door and the light of the adjoining hallway. A chuckle came from the darkness.

"**Honestly, scared of ghosts. I couldn't think of a more embarrassing fear for you to have. No wonder Eris could twist your mind around so easily."**

At the mention of the silver-haired woman Alfred steeled himself. He had almost forgotten in his discovery that the reason he was even here right now was because of the crazed female. Composing himself in a manner befitting a superpower nation of his status Alfred drew himself up and stood tall before the shadows. "Show yourself" he demanded coolly.

From Alfred's right, a light appeared on the worn desk. Turning towards the eerie glow, Alfred saw a pale green butterfly that seemed to radiate light like the glow sticks he used when partying in the dark. Seeming to notice that it was being observed, the butterfly flapped its glowing wings and took off, flying directly into the darkened mirror. Making contact with the reflective surface, the glass rippled like the surface of a pool and consumed the small animal. The shadows shrank away.

The mirror revealed what appeared to be some kind of twisted reflection of himself.

This version of America was identical in nearly every way, as expected, apart from two details. The first being his hair, which instead of a wheat blond was instead as black as pitch. And his skin, not the tan from his constant time spent outdoors, but a pale and sickly white like a corpse. As if he had never once set foot under the sun. He wore the same bomber jacket, except that it was black instead of dark brown and the furry collar was white instead of black. It couldn't be America could it? Yet the man reflected was stood in the exact same spot America was and held the same expression of confusion. "Wh-what the hell!?" Alfred was unnerved by this image. It had to be some kind of trick. Still, he took a step closer, and then another, watching as the reflection did the same. Before Alfred knew it he was standing directly before the mirror.

The dark-haired America was standing directly before him. His expression, while still the same as Alfred's had a kind of apathy to it that was unnerving. His eyes, seemed more cold and glacial than the warm sky-blue eyes Alfred was always told he had. Feeling an odd urge to touch the reflection Alfred reached forward and his hand brushed the surface of the mirror. A cold shock shot through his arm to his heart, making him gasp. He quickly dropped his arm in reaction to the sensation. Not wishing to look anymore, America took a step back...

And was chilled to the bone when the reflection made no move to do the same. In fact, the reflection instead stepped forward. "Wh-wha-?" America stuttered out in fear while his dark image let a cocky smirk crawl onto his face. Tripping on air, Alfred tumbled down onto the ground, and stared up at the mirror in fear as the dark America stood over him from behind the glass. Then, with both hands tucked into the pockets of his bomber jacket in a pose of complete ease, the dark-haired nation stepped forward and out of the mirror,the surface rippling once more like it had when consuming the butterfly.

Coming forward, the other stood directly before Alfred's stunned and fallen form; staring coldly down at him. "**Boo." **Alfred screamed like a little girl, there was no sugar-coating it.

"**Pfft." ** The dark America snorted in amusement, for the first time breaking his cool facade and covered his mouth with one gloved hand to hide his snickering. "**You should've seen your face. You looked absolutely terrified." **The man stifled his laughter and returned to his small smile. Kneeling down, he crouched down so that he was at eye-level to the quaking American.

"Who... who are you?" Alfred asked in a small squeak of a voice.

The other man lifted a midnight brow before leaning forward so much that the two were nearly nose to nose. "**Who do I look like to you?" **he asked.

Alfred gulped. "L-like me." The pale-faced American gave one slow nod.

"**That would be because I am kid." **Rising quickly to his feet the man who claimed to be America offered one black-gloved hand to the other and Alfred cautiously accepted the aid. He snapped his fingers and the empty fireplace ignited instantly with bright green flames, lighting up the study to the same level of brightness it had been in America's dream.

"H-how is this possible?" Alfred asked in utter confusion as his reflection turned his back and started to stretch like someone who had been stuck in the same position for some time. A small pop was heard from his back as the dark-haired male attempted to crack his back and he let out a satisfied sigh.

"**Man that felt good." **Finishing his stretches, the other turned to face America again and addressed his question. "**To be quite honest pal, at some point you realize that there are so many strange things in the world that if you spend all your time trying to understand them you'll end up driving yourself insane." **America just looked at the other confused, mouth gaping slightly. The dark-haired man rolled his eyes and shut Alfred's mouth with a light bop to the chin. "**I mean don't worry about it. Fact is I'm here, how it happened seems kind of irrelevant when faced with that fact, no?"**

Alfred thought for a moment then nodded dumbly. "So... what are you doing here then? If you're me I mean." There were so many odd things going on right after one another America was beginning to feel like he really had lost his mind. And now he was talking to himself. Literally.

"**I think the more important question is what are **_**you **_**doing here. This is my home. I belong here." **He gestured around the ruined room.

"Your home?" the other nodded in affirmation. "Well, I was kidnapped by this woman, Eris Discordia. And now my friend and I are trapped here until I can guess her real name. Problem is, I have no idea. Only that apparently she is some kind of personification like I am for The United States of America."

At the mention of a friend the dark America looked intrigued. "**Someone is with you?"**

"Yeah, another personification like me. England. Or the United Kingdom if you want to be more formal."

"**What's his name?"**

"I just told you. The United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern-"

"**I mean his human name." **The other America took a step closer, staring deeply into Alfred's eyes as if searching for something, but his face remained as impassive as ever. It was weird for America to see any version of himself that showed so little emotion.

"Arthur." The other's electric blue eyes widened and the dark-haired man shot a look over Alfred's shoulder towards the open doorway. Stepping around his light-haired counterpart the man made for the door.

"**Brother" **he murmured in shock. Alfred frowned at the term and, feeling particularly bold, reached out and grabbed the other by the arm, squeezing with a bit of his superpower strength.

"Hold it dude. What do you mean brother? How do you know Iggy?" '_Damn it why does everyone here seem to know England so well?' _The other glared at America for a moment before registering the strong grip on his arm. A look of understanding dawned on him.

"**Ah, I see. You are strong aren't you. Stronger than any other." **Alfred didn't allow himself to be distracted.

"Answer me."

The dark one gave a sly smile and stepped back away from the door so that America was between him and the exit. "**I had a brother once." **His voice was wistful and he stared off in the distance, though it was clear by looking him in the eye that his mind was far away. "**His name was Arthur. I betrayed him." **That was all the dark America was willing to offer by way of explanation. Alfred debated in his mind whether he should allow this person to see Arthur. Especially hearing what he had done to his own brother. Who couldn't be the same Arthur... Could it? Slowly, he released the other's arm.

"What's your name? I can't keep calling you 'the dark me' in my head forever. And don't you dare say that you can't tell me." He had had enough of the name guessing game. He just wanted a straight answer for once.

The other him chuckled a little at America's clear frustration. "**You can call me Mordred." **Alfred was frozen in shock, eyes probably bulging out of their sockets as the infamous name sank in. Before he even realized it Mordred had made it past him and was now walking through the hallways outside the study. Alfred blinked a few times, and then raced after him.

"Whoa whoa whoa hold on a second!" Mordred didn't stop walking but did send America a sidelong glance to indicate that he was listening. "You said Mordred?"

"**Yes" **he affirmed in slight confusion, like he didn't understand Alfred's incredulity. Did he not know the story behind that name?

"Like Camelot and King Arthur?" Mordred stopped and turned to face Alfred directly.

"**I have absolutely no idea to what you are referring. And I am most certain my Arthur was never a king." **Mordred continued on down the hallway, making turns here and there without hesitation.

"It's... a story" Alfred clarified, following at Mordred's back.

The other shrugged. "**Tell it to me."**

"Well, Arthur Pendragon was the King of Camelot and lead his people through a time of peace. But then his nephew Mordred turned on him and caused a civil war. Arthur and Mordred faced each other on the battlefield and while Arthur prevailed, Mordred succeeded in mortally wounding him and because of that Arthur was forced to sail to Avalon. Therefore ending his reign in Camelot. Legend says that he is waiting, watching over his kingdom until the time comes when he is needed once again." America silently thanked England for all the bedtime stories he had once told him when he was a colony. The story of King Arthur had always been one of his favorites and as it turned out just recently, actually came in handy.

Mordred though, looked like he had been struck. "**Is that some kind of sick joke?" **he asked in a thoroughly unamused tone. The two reached a doorway and Alfred had to quickly get out of the way as the angry man through the door open and stalked through. They entered another series of passages.

"Umm no?" Mordred rolled his eyes again and continued on. The pair walked in silence for a while until a commotion could be heard down a flight of stairs. Mordred made to pass the staircase but Alfred was interested to see what was going on. After all, he had yet to come across anyone else in this place.

"**Where are you going?" **Mordred inquired.

"Something's going on. I want to see what it is. Do you know what's down there?" Alfred pointed towards the set of stairs.

Mordred just shrugged in disinterest. "**The front door" **he said in a disregarding manner. Alfred could have jumped for joy.

"The front door! Why didn't you say so before! We can finally get out of here!" Alfred raced down the steps without a second thought, ignoring how Mordred tried to call him back. America heard the other pursue him. He soon reached the bottom steps and saw an ornate set of double doors in a grand front room. Making a note of Mordred arriving at his back the young nation excitedly glanced around.

Scattered about were a number of Eris' goons all looking various degrees of beat up. Some were just a bit disheveled, and others were bleeding from gaping wounds. There were even a few America feared were likely dead. Alfred counted about ten or so in total. A pounding was heard against the door and one of the guards who was bleeding from a long gash in his arm went to the doors and opened one just enough to let in one more of their number before shutting the door again. Alfred's blood chilled at what sounded like the roar of some large animal coming from the outside. But once the door was closed and the sound cut off, his attention went to the man who had been dragged in.

"Joshua!" the man who had opened and closed the door quickly knelt beside his counterpart who had completely collapsed onto the floor. The man was taking huge gulping breaths and was bleeding from a deep wound in his side that looked like something had taken a bite out of him. The guard removed the tinted sunglasses and America was shocked to see that the other, Joshua, had eyes of striking gold. Far brighter than the now dull-seeming amber of China's. It looked otherworldly. Taking Joshua's face in his hands the nameless guard lightly slapped his cheek in an attempt to keep the other aware. "Joshua focus!" Another guard came up to the two. "Aarin take Joshua to the infirmary" he ordered the newcomer. The other nodded and lifted Joshua up bridal style and quickly made off through a side hallway.

"**I see. Eris is taking quite the risk bringing you two here." ** Mordred's comment shocked Alfred out of his frozen state. The American turned to look over his shoulder at the other.

"What do you mean?"

"**I mean I wouldn't try escaping through that way if I were you" **he muttered, nodding towards the still ongoing commotion. One of the guards seemed to notice their presence finally, and quickly walked over. This particular man's sunglasses had broken, revealing that he too, had those strikingly inhuman, golden eyes. It made it hard not to stare.

"Mr. Jones. I apologize but I'm afraid I must ask you to leave the area. The border is not secure." The guard gestured for America to go back up the stairs.

"Wait a second. What's out there? The hell is going on!?"

The guard just sighed and gestured towards the stairs once again. "Sorry sir, but please, it is not safe." Alfred growled under his breath.

"Oh yeah? And what about him?" America pointed back towards Mordred who had remained silent throughout the whole of this particular exchange.

The guard glanced over America's shoulder and a look of confusion passed over him. "Who are you referring to?"

"The guy behind me!"

"There is no one behind you sir." Alfred gaped and looked back, only to see Mordred standing there, back leaning casually against the wall, just as he had been before.

"Wha-?"

"**Oh yeah, probably should have mentioned that no one else can see or hear me. I'm just in your head man. My bad." **Alfred let his arm fall and his jaw hang open in disbelief. He looked between the golden-eyed guard and his black-haired reflection for a moment before Mordred sighed and grabbed him behind the collar of his bomber jacket. He turned on his heel and started making for the stairs once again, effectively dragging America along behind him. He must have made quite the sight, but the guard had simply shrugged it off and jogged back to the others to help with the wounded.

Alfred struggled to regain his balance all the way up the stairs until Mordred released his hold at the top. "Dude, we have to go down there and help!" Alfred shouted at the other. He pushed the whole 'Mordred being only in his head' fact to the back of his mind as his hero instinct kicked in and made him want to go kick the butt of whatever was attacking down there.

"**Not a good idea. Besides, those guys have it taken care of. They were hand picked by Eris personally. There is no way they won't be able to handle what's out there." **Alfred was about to protest, but when Mordred started walking away again he was forced to follow or risk getting lost. And besides, there was still something else he wanted to discuss.

"Alright fine then. How about you tell me why I am the only one who can see you?"

Mordred shrugged, which Alfred took as an assent because he then started to speak. "**You're the only one who can see me because I don't actually exist. I am just a part of you. The part of you that was trapped in that mirror." **

Alfred just stared at the back of Mordred's head and asked, "if you are part of me, why are you separate? And why don't I know the stuff you do? Like where the hell we're going!"

Mordred smiled smugly. "**Well, that would be because we have become too different. The memories up here" **he tapped the side of his head "**are incompatible with the person you have become Alfred. So until such a time as you are ready to take in everything I will remain a separate entity."**

Alfred groaned and face-palmed. Then again, that was kind of like what happened during his civil war so it wasn't like he had no experience with another version of himself. But the Confederacy had been visible to other people. Then another thought surfaced. "Don't tell me, you know who Eris really is don't you?" Mordred just smiled knowingly and raised a finger to his lips. "Damn you" he muttered.

"**Get in line buddy."** Alfred and Mordred reached another staircase and the darker of the two lead the way down and through a last few hallways until they reached a door Alfred could clearly remember.

"We're back" Alfred remarked, suddenly feeling nervous. After all the last time he had left this room he had been chased out by Eris in all her rage. Then he remembered that England had also sounded angry. '_Oh and then there's Mordred. Didn't he say he wanted to see England too?'_

"**Yes, yes I did."**

"You can read my mind!" Alfred jumped at the answer to his unspoken question.

"**Of course I can. I'm part of you. Our minds are finally reconnecting. We may not have one another's memories, but our souls are linked now."**

"I can't hear _your _thoughts" America challenged.

Again Mordred looked at him with cool smugness. It bugged America. He was never that composed. "**That's because you are suppressing my thoughts. Some part of you doesn't want to remember me, so you are subconsciously rejecting my memories."**

Alfred scowled but relented, "fine."

Not wasting anymore time Alfred went to open the door when Mordred caught his wrist. "**No, listen"** he urged. Mordred crouched down and gestured for America to follow. Joining his other half on the floor America slowly and quietly opened the door where he had left Arthur and Eris alone just enough to catch a glimpse of two figures laying down together on the bed and talking. Eavesdropping wasn't very heroic, especially when it was on a friend, but Alfred would make this an exception. Maybe either Arthur or Eris would say the mysterious woman's real name when in private.

"**It really is him." **Mordred said quietly and Alfred looked over to see his other half appearing slightly nervous.

'_What's wrong?'_ But before he could get an answer a voice was heard from within, reminding the two of their original purpose.

"When did you know it was him?" Eris was speaking and Alfred looked over to Mordred who nodded knowingly.

"**She's talking about me. She wants to know when Arthur realized you were what was left of me."** Alfred nodded in thanks for the clarification then focused back in on the conversation taking place.

"From the moment I first saw him in that field. I would recognize him anywhere." Alfred's heart warmed a bit at the memory of when he first met England. Along with France, but mostly England.

"And you took him in anyway. Knowing he would hurt you. Knowing what he has done, what he is still going to do."

"Yes." Alfred was almost certain she was referring, at least in part, to the revolution. But what was that about what America was still going to do? The confused blond sent a questioning look to his counterpart who remained suspiciously quiet and stone faced. And when America sought to meet his gaze Mordred looked away as if in shame. '_What did you do?' _he asked icily in his mind. But no response was given. "What about you?"

"I'm afraid I was never so close to him. Of course during his revolution I suspected when I could do nothing to curb his success. But I didn't realize it was him until... I think it was... in the eighth month of 1945. Who but him could wreak such great and terrible destruction? He all but proclaimed his identity that day."

At Eris' mention of that time America stilled. He remembered the day she spoke of all too well. It still haunted him. It was Mordred this time who sent America a confused look, and Alfred allowed the other to view the memories flashing through his mind. Of Japan broken and bloodied almost beyond recognition. The screams of millions as they burned away into nothingness. The groans of the survivors as they continued to suffer long after America's initial strike. And then he had done it again. Mordred swallowed thickly as he took in the memories. Even he looked slightly ill. Who was Mordred that of all of America's actions over the years it was that which revealed his identity to her? But both America's shook off the dark thoughts when Arthur spoke again.

"Does _he _know you are doing this?"

"Hmph. Our brother knows all of what happens. Whether he deems it necessary to act or not is another matter entirely. And he seems content to let me do as I please."

'_Who's he?' _Alfred silently asked. '_She said brother.'_

Mordred shifted slightly then responded, with a dark look that sent a shiver down Alfred's spine. "_**He, **_**is the one who did this to us. The one who trapped me in that mirror." **That was all the other was willing to say on the matter.

"Perhaps he doesn't believe you will be successful in your endeavor?" Alfred heard Eris laugh.

"Right. I always win"

'_Talk about full of yourself.'_ Alfred thought.

"**She's not. She does always win." **Alfred raised a brow and tuned back in.

"Is it really pride if I am simply stating a truth? It is impossible for me to undertake a task in which I do not foresee my own success. I cannot lose." Alfred was surprised when Arthur did not challenge Eris' claim. '_Maybe she really does always win.'_

"**I already told you it is." **This whole mind reading thing was starting to grate on America's nerves.

'_Stop it.' _Mordred just shrugged and huffed lightly.

Arthur was speaking. "In that case, isn't there someone else you should be spending time with besides me? How is America supposed to find your name if you are here with me?"

"Unnecessary" Victoria responded. "This place... it carries enough memories for him to do my work for me. All I need is for him to find the right clues, and everything will fall into place." America shot Mordred a look, who just raised a brow in response.

"**I didn't know she knew about me."**

"Then what do you intend to do while you wait for him to remember? Our presence here, America and I, it is sure to draw them in legion." Arthur's tone held worry in it. America could tell.

"**He's talking about those things you heard outside. That wounded Eris' people. There will be more coming." **Mordred clarified before Alfred even had to ask. His face was serious now, and Alfred could almost see the wheels turning inside those icy blue eyes. He was really starting to wish he could read the other's thoughts. "**No you don't. Otherwise you would be able to." **

'_Shit.'_

"Don't worry, my men and I can handle them. As long as the two of you stay within these walls you will be safe" Well Arthur wouldn't like that. He wasn't one for sitting on the sidelines, even when it was for his own good.

"And what if I do not wish to be protected?" England asked back. "What if I desire to ride into battle at your heel as I used to?"

'_Like he used to?'_ Mordred remained silent.

"And you will again. But for now trust me." Arthur confirmed his trust and Eris expressed her appreciation of the fact. "Speaking of which. How long do you think until he figures it out? As much as I like watching him floundering about in confusion, I would like to have everything come to a conclusion this side of eternity." Alfred frowned and heard Mordred snort at the insinuation of his inability to figure this situation out. America glared.

"**Pfft." **he laughed. " **What?"**

"Shut up" he hissed, then immediately clapped his hand over his mouth when he realized that he had spoken aloud. Luckily though, it seemed his outburst had gone unnoticed when Arthur spoke again.

"Well. I suppose that depends."

"On what?" Eris asked, and Mordred and Alfred shared a confused look.

"On how long he has been listening into this conversation." Alfred gulped.

Or maybe not as unnoticed as he thought.

"**Oops."**

* * *

**I love it when I have days off of work. I can write so much faster. Yeah we won't get to see what happens to America until next chapter sorry! Just to clarify, everything Mordred says will be written in bold. To America he is speaking aloud but no one else can see or hear him. Also, with Mordred think Sweet!Devil America not 2P America. Please tell me what you think. It will help me update faster!**


	6. Chapter 6

**Okay. Whew... That took me a while. I did write an outline for the rest of this story though so that should help. This is about the halfway mark and stuff's about to take off. If anyone has any last guesses on who Eris/Victoria is (I think I might have made it obvious this chapter but then again I already know) make your guesses now. Chapter 9 we know for sure but I think it will be painfully obvious by then if it isn't already. Enjoy! And once again thank you to everybody keeping up with this story.**

* * *

"_Well. I suppose that depends."_

"_On what?" Eris asked, and Mordred and Alfred shared a confused look._

"_On how long he has been listening into this conversation." Alfred gulped. _

_Or maybe not as unnoticed as he thought._

"_**Oops."**_

Alfred slowly got to his feet, Mordred rising behind him, and fully opened the door. Stepping inside, America could now fully see the position Eris and Arthur were in. Arthur was shirtless, his hair even more messy than usual and seated back against the headboard. Eris, well she was also without clothes and settled comfortably against England's chest, the red sheets of the bed thankfully draped over her form. Silver hair cascaded down her back and she had her cheek pressed against Arthur's heart. He looked just as comfortable, one arm slung protectively around her shoulders, holding her close.

An image flashed in America's mind.

* * *

_America-no, Mordred, was standing upon a ravaged battlefield. Fires raged all about him and the sky was choked black with smoke, just enough light from the sun piercing through the dark clouds to cast everything in an odd sepia tone. He could feel from the muscles in his face that his expression was uncaring and stoic as he surveyed the scene around him._

"_Mordred!" he turned slowly and deliberately and saw two figures standing not ten paces away. Odd that he didn't hear them approach. They were two very familiar figures, each wearing a set of medieval looking armor. The one on the left was Eris, shining in a set of silver-plated armor, her hair held up in its normal pony-tail and a silver tiara adorned with five small diamonds was set upon her head. Her eyes blazed and across her back was slung a bow. She had that look of righteous anger in her that he had come to associate with the woman. Mordred scowled at her and she glared right back. Then he turned to the figure on the right and his hard expression faltered._

_It was the same man from that first glimpse of flying and the same man from the memory of the study. Except that now he could see his face. And it was the same face he associated with warmth, burnt scones, mint, and tea. It was Arthur. He was dressed in armor the color of blood, but the dyed metal could not hope to match the fierce scarlet of his hair. His pale cheeks were splattered with blood that Mordred automatically knew belonged not to him but his enemies. After all, there was only one who could defeat him in battle, and she would never dream of raising her bow to him. Arthur's eyes shone with their bright green light but in them was held a deep pain. _

_Arthur stepped forward, and reached up behind him to grasp the hilt of a greatsword and, upon drawing it, America recognized it as the blade in the study, shining with all its glory. Arthur drew the weapon and took a step forward. In so doing giving the declaration for battle. Eris' expression turned to that of worry and she gripped his arm and shook her head. She knew what he was going to do and did not want to burden him with it. But Arthur kept his eyes only on Mordred and shook off the other's hold. This was his duty. He walked until he was midway between Eris and Mordred and raised his sword in a challenging manner. "Your move" he stated plainly, but in the slightest waver to his voice Mordred read the silent plea. 'I'm begging you, don't do this.' And much to America's horror. He felt himself as Mordred reach over his shoulder to grasp his own weapon._

* * *

Alfred blinked once. Hard. And the images were gone. The memory ended and he was back in the red room with Eris and England. Behind him he saw Mordred sending him a shocked and worried look and realized that the memory had been unintentionally sent from him. One of the memories he had been subconsciously rejecting. Now he knew why.

America met two sets of piercing eyes. One green, one violet. He nervously cleared his throat. "Um, sorry?" he tentatively apologized. Eris rolled her eyes.

"So, how much did you hear?" she questioned him.

Alfred swallowed thickly, no one but he and Mordred knew what had just taken place in his mind and he needed to remain calm. "Not much, about from where you were talking about recognizing me." Arthur nodded in understanding and Alfred noticed how his hand instinctively went up to brush through Eris' hair.

"I see."

"**I want to speak with Arthur. Can you ask to talk with him privately?" ** Alfred jumped a little, a new fear and distrust of Mordred's presence blossoming in him. Alfred sent a silent '_Yes' _in his mind and cleared his throat. He wanted to talk to England alone as well.

Eris shifted when America indicated his wish to speak. "Can I talk to you England?" He coughed a little. "Alone?" Arthur raised a brow but nodded. Eris groaned in annoyance but it appeared she was also willing to comply. Sliding from England's embrace she pulled the fiery red sheets along with her as she rose from the bed and wrapped them securely around around her chest. Leaving with a brief kiss on Arthur's lips she walked calmly towards the door, the sheet trailing behind her like a train and sent America a suspicious look before exiting.

She did throw a short and whispered warning of "If I catch you eavesdropping on us again I will tear you limb from limb" before she was out of hearing range. It made the superpower shiver. Now though, Alfred was alone with Arthur who had by this point stood up from the bed, pants thankfully replaced while America had been listening to Eris' threat.

"It's not like you to eavesdrop Alfred. Didn't you always say that it went against your 'hero instincts'?" Arthur said this last with massive air quotes and a deadpanned expression. Apparently the Brit was peeved with Alfred as well and was just more subtle about it.

Alfred looked down at the ground in shame before scratching the back of his head in a gesture of embarrassment at being caught. "Sorry, I guess I was just listening to my shoulder villain instead of my shoulder hero." England snorted a little in amusement. Probably at the way America had twisted the normal idea of a shoulder angel and shoulder devil. How like him to compare himself instead to heroes and villains. But then the island frowned when he took full stock of America's expression and posture. He looked far more ashamed than he normally did when being chastised for something.

"Alfred" he started seriously.

The wheat blond slowly raised his eyes to look at his former caretaker. Still with the look of a child who had been caught doing something bad. "Yeah?" he responded shyly.

"You know you aren't a villain right?" Alfred nodded but by the way England's frown deepened, it was clear that the elder did not believe him.

So America relented, admitting, "Well, I mean..." he wasn't sure how to put this. "Of course I'm the hero but, since this all started... I guess I've just been feeling more like I'm the character who thinks he is the hero only to become the villain in the end." His explanation was cumbersome and poorly made but Arthur did seem to understand by the way he was looking sympathetically at the teenage looking man.

Coming up to stand before Alfred, Arthur took the younger nation's hand and pulled him over to the chess table once again, where their short-lived game was still where they had left off. Back still bare, Alfred's eyes widened a little when he took in the two scars there. England had always been very particular about not showing his back to America. Even when he was young. And now Alfred knew why. Those scars were not the result of nationhood as the rest of his were. He had been born with them. America knew because he had a set to match; and he had been born with them too.

Looking away from the dark scars, America took a look at the board, his pale knight jumped before the pawns. At the time he had wondered why the move had seemed to unnerve Arthur and Eris. Now though, for some unknown reason he too was feeling bothered by it. He looked over to see the white and red knights before England and felt something click in his head, like a door had been unlocked. But Alfred was careful to avoid delving too deep. He was more than happy to leave the door closed. "Sit." It was an order not a suggestion, but still said with enough compassion that Alfred didn't mind complying. It was like when a parent told you to do something and you knew they were only insisting because it was for your own good. Alfred retook his spot from before and Arthur took his. "We never really got to have that game did we?" Alfred shook his head and Arthur lifted his hand to make a move, taking a pawn and jumping forward. And so the game was started. "Why do you feel like the villain Alfred?"

America waited to speak until after he had made his move. Sitting back in his chair, he did not meet England's gaze but stared adamantly down at board. "I know you changed my name" Alfred admitted. Arthur stiffened momentarily, before composing himself once again and making his move. "I don't know how or what I even was before, but you changed my name when I became a nation." Alfred made a move. "Why?"

"Alfred-"

"Its Mordred. You know it's Mordred so don't deny it." Arthur made his move and claimed one of Alfred's pieces, a frown plastered firmly on his face.

"How did you find out about that?" he asked seriously, while Alfred moved another of his pieces.

"Does it matter? The point is I know. So tell me why you changed my name?" There was more bite and accusation in America's tone than he intended, but Arthur didn't seem phased by it. Not pleased of course, but unbothered by the timbre of America's voice.

"**You told me the story yourself. You should realize why he would change our name. Arthur has always ever cared about our well-being, he wouldn't want to burden you with the weight that name carries." **There was shame in his words. The reflection of Mordred spoke for the first time since America and England had begun their conversation. Alfred forced himself not to react physically. '_I need to hear it from him' _Arthur stared adamantly down at the chessboard and made his move.

"I've told you the story enough times. You were a different person then. I am sure you have put two and two together but those tales about King Arthur and Mordred originated from an actual event."

"Between you and I." Arthur nodded, confirming Alfred's assumption. "I did something to you then didn't I. Something so terrible that my name went down in history as one of the most infamous traitors of all time." Alfred felt and probably looked, like he was going to be sick. That was a short list he had found himself on.

"Like I said, you were a different person." The Brit gestured towards the table and Alfred shook himself off and made a move. Out of the corner of his eye Alfred could see Mordred standing against the window, looking at an oblivious Arthur with an expression that was hard to read. It seemed to be equal parts, anger, regret, and apathy. How that was even possible confused him. "I wanted to give you a fresh start. A name of a hero." It wasn't often that Arthur fed America's hero obsession, but when he did it usually worked to cheer the young nation up. Alfred gave a small smile and watched as Arthur made his move. Alfred followed suite.

"Arthur, you told me when all this started that it was okay for me to be scared. Well... I'm scared. I'm scared that Eris is right about me. The way she has always looked at me; she has been acting this entire time like I'm the villain and I think she may be right. She brought up the revolution and-"

"Stop. Stop right there." Arthur held up a hand and America silenced. "Have you forgotten why you fought the revolution in the first place?" England's face held a serious expression. He clearly wasn't enjoying the prospect of defending the revolution but he wouldn't let America regret it either. To do so would suggest that all that pain had been for nothing.

"No of course not. It was for my people's freedom. For their rights and independence." England's look was sour but he nodded.

"Victoria looks at the revolution and only sees you going to war against me. She forgets the importance of context. As do you apparently." America looked a little confused so England began to clarify. "When you grew up, I feared you breaking away from me so I tightened the leash and in so doing, drove you away. I'll admit it, I was oppressing you and your people. You did the right thing. For yourself and your country. Don't regret it. You were in the right. You were the hero. If anyone was the villain then it was me for not letting you go."

"England" America looked at his former caretaker with a new respect.

"And if you ever tell the other nations that I said any of that I will deny it to the ends of the Earth." America smiled at that. But then his smile faded. There was still something he needed to say.

"I need to remember everything about myself, about Mordred, to know who Eris really is. And I'm scared of what I'll find if I dig too deep. Arthur, tell me the truth. I may not have been during the revolution but, back then, and here and now, am I the villain?"

"..." Arthur's silence was enough to know the answer.

"That's what I was afraid of." Alfred leaned back in his chair and pressed the palms of his hands into his eyes. "I don't want to know. I've been seeing things. Flashes and memories of things I have no recollection of. I just want to go back to the way things were. I don't want to be the villain Arthur!"

"Alfred" England began, but the other was steadfast in his resolve to not look the other in the eye. "Alfred look at me." America just shook his head. "Mordred!" At the use of his real name America was shocked into looking his ex-brother in the eye. And in the fiery green pools he was surprised to find the steely resolve of someone who knew an absolute truth. "This is not the same story it was before. Yes, I will admit that when this started you were the villain. You tipped the scales of balance and Victoria and I were forced to set it right. But like I said the story is different now. You are Alfred, the United States of America, 'the Hero'. Don't let the mistakes of the past destroy your hope for the future. Who we once were does not determine who we will be forevermore." To that, America had nothing to say.

Mordred took Alfred's silence as an indication that it was his turn to ask questions. "**Can you ask him a few things for me?"** Mordred sat and made himself comfortable on the seat of the windowsill beside the table. Alfred said nothing, using the pretense of focusing on the chess game to hold a silent conversation with his darker half. Arthur made a last move and Alfred found himself in checkmate. Sighing, Alfred knocked over the white king in surrender and realized with slight confusion that throughout the entire match Arthur had not once moved either of his knights. '_Fine, what do you want to ask?' _ Mordred looked away from America and stared intently on the man he called brother who did not know he was even present. "**I need to know if he had anything to do with what happened after I lost our fight." **Alfred gave the slightest inclination of his head to show that he would do as he was asked.

"Arthur" the elder hummed in acknowledgement. "I know we fought... back then. Did you, have anything to do with what happened afterwards? Whatever put us in the position we're in now?" Arthur's grip on the piece he was currently resetting tightened significantly before he eased it and placed the piece down in its' proper spot.

"I suppose I both did and didn't. I did not choose what was to happen, but I agreed to have a hand in it. Let's just say that if I hadn't things might have gone far worse than they have. In my opinion things couldn't have gone better actually." Arthur gave a small half-smile. Alfred was content with this answer, but apparently something about it struck a deep and painful chord with Mordred.

The dark reflection screamed in outrage, throwing a fist into the stone walls of the room. America jumped a little at the other's outburst, but luckily it went unnoticed by the island nation. "**That idiot! He's got to be kidding me!" **Mordred was breathing hard, he rounded on England and started shouting down at the shorter man's unhearing ears. "**Why would you do that!? Nothing could compare to the fate that has been laid out before me!" **All the strength seemed to flee Mordred's body and he collapsed onto his knees beside the Brit. "**I never wanted to fight you. You were never supposed to get hurt." **Alfred was unsure of what to do, but one thing was sure. None of this was making him want to remember anything more. Finally after a moment of silence Mordred gave Alfred another question. "**Ask him if it is too late. If there is any way I can still prevent what is to come." **His voice was desperate and slightly pleading. Like he was begging for the other to give him a way out.

For a minute Alfred considered how he might go about asking this question. He didn't want to reveal Mordred's presence after all. But then he remembered something Eris had mentioned that might offer a way. "Eris said that I did something to you, and I know that I did. But then she also said that I was still going to do something, something awful. I don't know what that is, but... Is there anything I can do to stop it? Is there any way I can prevent what must come to pass?"

England gave the younger a wary and measuring look. "I don't know how much you remember about what happened back then America. I can guess you now know we were not always countries. But you don't know what we were. So you can't possibly understand what you are talking about. But let me tell you this. Nothing is set in stone. Free will was given for a reason. And as such our destiny is our own to make. It is not decided for us." Alfred remained silent. By the window, Mordred stood with his shoulders hunched and his back turned to the British nation.

"**What does it matter if we have free will? What does it matter if destiny is our own to make? Fate is what matters. And my fate is what has been predestined." **Alfred relayed the buried question.

Arthur gave a sad laugh. "You confuse me America. You seem to have no idea what is going on and then you ask questions that make it seem like you understand everything. Tell me, do you know the difference between fate and destiny?"

"**Fate is the conclusion. Destiny, the path we take to get there." **Arthur nodded to America's answer.

"I will admit, it is likely that our fates are decided by the events that have already taken place in history. And as such, may be too far set to change. But the outcome of fate cannot be interpreted without destiny. It may be a man's fate to die. But would you not agree that there is a great difference in if that man kills himself or dies to save another?" America nodded, not even waiting for Mordred to agree as well. "That is the difference. It's the journey that matters, not the destination. If you dwell on fates predetermined you become slave to it. Forge your own destiny and regardless of fate you need not fear the outcome. That, is why we were given free will."

"**Some fates are to be feared regardless of whatever destiny we make to get there. Arthur, if it is your fate to die at my hand, does it matter the circumstance? Is there any scenario where I should... could be okay with that?" **America froze, not repeating the words. '_What?' _Mordred had finally turned to look over his shoulder at England. Icy blue eyes searched for the gaze of the emerald green that could not see him. '_Mordred what are you talking about? What do you mean England's fate is to die at your hand?' _Mordred shifted his gaze to Alfred and a look of self-loathing stared him down. "**Just what I said. Except it won't be me. I don't even have a body. But it is the fate of England to fall at the hands of the United States of America."**

'_How else could thirteen colonies break free from the most powerful empire of the age and grow to become the new world power while the latter's strength began to fade? For America to rise to power England, the British Empire, had to fall from grace.' _

Oh God. Victoria had been right. America looked at England, really looked at him for the first time in a while. And he saw just how fragile the other had become. He wasn't as tall as he had been before, he was too skinny. His skin was pale and he always seemed tired... old. And America? America was tall, strong, energetic, youthful, growing in power. It was his fault... wasn't it?

A sharp pain struck in America's skull. With a hiss of pain the young nation lifted a hand to his forehead. "America!" England called out in concern and rushed to the other's side. White spots were flashing in Alfred's vision as the nation tried to focus his eyes again. He stumbled out of his chair and onto the floor on his hands and knees.

'_What's happening?' _Alfred sent the silent plea for an explanation to Mordred. The other looked down pityingly at his lighter counterpart. "**A memory. Something is surfacing and you are trying to subdue it. That's why it hurts." **"I don't WANT to remember!" Alfred screamed.

"America what's going on?" Alfred lifted his tightly shut eyes to meet England's concerned expression. But even as he looked at his ex-mentor the other's golden haired flashed crimson and his face appeared stained with blood. America shook his head as the image faded and England returned to normal. He shut his eyes again and pulled away.

'_Please, I don't want to know.'_ Alfred felt Mordred's hand come down on his shoulder. A cold lip brushed against his ear. "**I'm sorry, but I am far more selfish than you. I could help you suppress this memory, but if I am to be burdened by it, then why would I ever let you live in blissful ignorance?." **Alfred shook his head furiously and clamped his hands over his ears, but it couldn't stop him from hearing the words that followed from Mordred's lips. "Please don't." he begged. "**Tradet autem frater fratrem in mortem, et pater filium ; et insurgent filii in parentes , et morte afficient eos." **At the sound of the Latin phrase, America felt himself falling. It sounded familiar, but he could not translate the words. Then suddenly, he was no longer with England in the present. He was in a memory.

* * *

_He was back in the burning battlefield. Dressed in a set of grey armor and standing amidst a sea of figures wielding swords and axes and bows killing one another. He was surrounded by a few of those warriors. His personal guard he somehow knew. Four men with golden eyes who stood in a half circle behind him, fending off others who came too close. Mordred himself stalked through the sea of battle holding his own weapon and cutting down any within reach. Each stroke was another step closer to him becoming free. Every drop of blood spilt a step closer to his goal. And it felt wonderful. Alfred felt as Mordred flexed two restless weights on his back. Wings. Two skeletal wings each spanning six feet and filed into deadly points at each branch. Mordred used to think them ugly because he lacked the beautiful feathers his siblings had. But now he knew that his wings had their own beauty to them. A darker kind to be sure, but beautiful nonetheless. And besides, they made wonderful secondary weapons as he could impale their points into nearby foes. Alfred heard a maniacal laughter erupt from Mordred's mouth as the bone of his wings became stained with blood._

"_Sir" one of his guards stepped forward, interrupting his mirth to point to a figure in the distance, cutting down his soldiers. A figure clad in red. Mordred pushed his guard back into formation and began striding towards him. It was Arthur. He fought valiantly, sword dancing in his grip as he cut down each man to come near him. But Arthur was outnumbered. He was alone. At some point he and Victoria must have been separated. After all, Mordred had been careful before making his move. He had them greatly outnumbered. Still though, Mordred had to take Arthur down. He couldn't beat Victoria, it was impossible. So the only thing to do would be to capture the redhead and use him to assure her surrender. Mordred could do it. He had to. _

_A kind of circle had formed around Arthur, his brother having spread his dark wings wide. Mordred had always loved his brother's wings. Each feather was black like Mordred's hair but glowed along their rims with an orange light like embers. And when he beat them a great fire shot forth from them to burn away his foes. It was a useful gift, and now it worked to keep the number of attackers to a minimum. "Brother" Mordred called out. Arthur froze after striking down another of Mordred's men and turned to face his younger brother, wings spread wide in a display of dominance, to which Mordred answered in turn. The points of his skeleton wings angling towards the other in silent threat._

"_Mordred! Enough of this!" Arthur shouted at him, feathers bristling. Alfred inwardly grimaced at the tone. It was not one Arthur used often with him. It was one of pure anger and... betrayal. But Mordred simply brushed it off, waving a hand to bid the remainder of his men who were engaging the other to back off and join the ring around them. He was too far gone now to listen to Arthur anyway. "Are you a fool! End this folly and let's go home!" Arthur lowered his sword and raised a hand to Mordred, his eyes pleading._

_Mordred just shook his head and slapped the hand away. "I will not stop Arthur. This is my right. I will not go back to uselessly waiting. In fact, why don't you join me? Forget Victoria, together you and I could rule the realm of men. As brothers. As equals!" Mordred raised his own hand invitingly. Alfred felt horrified by what was coming from his mouth. He didn't understand the situation very much but he sounded crazy. And by the horrified look on Arthur's face it was clear the other felt the same way as well._

"_I can't believe what I'm hearing" he stated in a shocked tone, backing away from the hand. Arthur's wings retracted a bit and then settled against his back and disappeared. Mordred followed suit but frowned at the rejection._

"_All I want is my freedom" Mordred said coldly. Arthur gaped in disbelief._

"_FREEDOM!? You call this freedom!" Arthur swung his arm to gesture at the surrounding battlefield. "This is greed Mordred! You speak of your rights but all you are doing is feeding your own ambition!" Arthur shook his head, sheathing his sword over his shoulder the redhead raced over and gripped Mordred by the shoulders, shaking him. "Stop. Please. This path you're going down I can't follow. I can't protect you." Arthur stared up into Mordred's eyes and Alfred stared back, screaming inside his head for Mordred to listen. But these events had taken place long ago. They could not be altered now. Met with silence Arthur dropped his hands from his younger brother's shoulders and backpedaled until he and Mordred were evenly spaced within the ring of men. "Very well. I will do what I must" the elder spoke in resignation and drew his sword. Mordred took out his own weapon as well. _

"_I do not wish to hurt you Arthur. But I need you to get through Victoria. Surrender peacefully and this will be far less painful." Arthur gave a sardonic smile._

"_You speak as if your victory is assured."_

_Mordred frowned. "I am no longer a child. I am strong now. Strong enough to defeat you I think."_

"_Perhaps you are strong. But you seem to forget that I am not so easily defeated either." Not wasting any more time with talk Arthur charged and the two blades met. And much to Mordred's surprise, if not Alfred's, it was his weapon which collided with the ground first. Arthur's sword touched his neck._

"_H-How?" Mordred stood wide-eyed and fearful as he waited for the other to strike him down. Arthur's steely gaze wavered... then hardened once again and the blade of the weapon was pressed further. Mordred dropped to his knees. "Arthur-"_

"_Silence." Arthur ordered, before turning to glare at Mordred's men. "All of you. Drop your weapons now and return from whence you came." Slowly but surely the surrounding soldiers did as they were bid and began to disperse. Arthur brought his gaze down to his brother. He opened his mouth as if to say something but was then interrupted by the sound of galloping hooves. _

"_Arthur!" Victoria's voice could be heard over the sound of numerous soldier's all clad in white converging on their location. The silver-haired woman appeared atop an impressive white horse, and two spotless white-feathered wings were spread out behind her for balance as her steed reared up. "Is it finished?" she asked of him._

"_It is done" Arthur answered back. Mordred heard Victoria snap her fingers and in a matter of moments he felt as Victoria's men grasped his arms and hauled him to his feet. Immediately heavy chains were wrapped around him and he watched as Arthur put away his sword and turned his back. Walking up to Victoria on her horse a second steed was brought up by another golden-eyed soldier. This time in red. Arthur pat the horse on the side of it's face once before grabbing hold of the reins and mounting. With a last look at Mordred, Arthur turned his horse around and over his shoulder ordered, "take him away" before he and Victoria departed._

_Alfred watched the memory unfold in disbelief. What was this? When had this happened? What were the circumstances behind such a terrible battle? But the ordeal was not done. More images flashed._

_Blood. _

_Judgement._

_Two black wings with feathers rimmed in embers were thrown down before him. Blood seeped onto the floor from where the two appendages were ripped from their host. Mordred screamed and thrashed against his bonds. Arthur was laying before him, unseeing eyes directed towards his horrified face. The stumps of bone and ripped flesh stuck up from two places on his back. He did not move even as Mordred called out his name. The pool of blood beneath the redhead's body simply continued to grow. "This is what you wanted isn't it?" came a voice Alfred did not recognize._

* * *

America's vision cleared and the memory faded into the background. Suddenly he was back in the red room he had been in before. On his hands and knees and facing his fellow nation. The nation he had declared independence from. The one, who, at some point in time. Had caused to fall for something that was not his fault. For something that Mordred had done. And somehow, it was only going to get worse. England was calling his name and trying to get the young superpower to answer him. America's vision swirled again and went to black.

* * *

**America's in the clear then right back in trouble again. Poor guy. At least Eris didn't go off on him. Please tell me what you think. It will help me update faster!**


	7. Chapter 7

**Another hard chapter to write. This is essentially the last transition chapter until all hell breaks loose so please bear with me.**

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_England was calling his name and trying to get the young superpower to answer him. America's vision swirled again and went to black._

When Alfred awoke he found himself in a room he did not recognize. Well actually, he could, it was just like his and Arthur's rooms in style. Four poster bed, chess table, window, fireplace, etc. The difference once again was in color scheme alone. The sheets he rested under were of the purest white with just the smallest accents of silver and the painting above the mantle was of a laurel wreath. Alfred groaned and looked up at the canopy above the bed. He was met by the image of a white warhorse. He recognized it as the one from the vision he had right before passing out. It was Victoria who rode that horse. This must be Victoria's room.

"**It is." **Alfred shot up out of the bed and rounded on Mordred, who was leaning against the door to the room. He did not look at all distraught by what had taken place a few hours prior.

"You bastard!" Alfred shouted, not very heroically but hey, he deserved it. "How could you do that to me! I told you I didn't want to know!" Mordred rolled his eyes and pushed himself off the door instead walking up to stand right in front of the other.

Mordred stared him down and Alfred glared right back. "**You needed to know. The vision was coming I just helped it along. Besides, you're going to get it all back eventually. No point in delaying it further. Didn't you say you wanted to get out of here?" **Alfred growled at his reflection and shoved past him to pace the room.

"That battle. You lost." Mordred gave one short nod. "But then, what I saw at the end, how could that have happened? You didn't even injure Arthur during the fight." America shook his head and ran a hand through his hair in confusion. This was starting to get frustrating. "And whose voice was that at the end?"

Mordred frowned, "**I think you're dwelling on the wrong thing. The point isn't to understand the memory. It is to figure out who Eris is."**

"Screw figuring out who Eris is! Screw this whole damn riddle! All these secrets and mysteries are driving me insane! I feel like my brain is about to explode." Alfred threw himself flat onto the bed so that his face landed in a pile of pillows. "Why can't there just be one bad guy and somebody just point and say 'see him? He's the bad guy, get him'?" the American mumbled into the pillow, his voice coming out garbled but still understandable.

Mordred walked over and sat on the bed about a foot from where Alfred was sprawled. "**Well it looks like Victoria's getting tired of this too." **Alfred looked up from the pillow, glasses crooked, and a confused expression on his face.

"How do you figure?"

Mordred smirked. "**She did leave you in her room didn't she? This is her sanctuary, where she keeps her most personal effects. Surely even you could find a few clues as to her identity here." **Alfred considered the pros and cons of beating Mordred to a pulp but then figured that it wouldn't do him much good so he just threw a pillow, which sailed right through him. '_Right, not real.' _"**That's right."**

"I really hate you." Alfred rolled off the bed and started looking around the room. His eye was immediately drawn to the corner of a room where he found a familiar weapon. Propped up on a stand was a white bow. The same one he had seen the woman carry in his memories. For a moment, the urge to touch the weapon overcame him and America reached forward only to have his wrist caught by Mordred who looked at him seriously.

"**Don't. She actually will kill you if you dare touch that. She doesn't even let Arthur touch it." **America immediately retracted his hand.

"Okay... not touching the bow. Got it." Alfred backed away after casting one last admiring glance at the fine weapon. He then walked over to the small bookshelf beside the window and started reading over the titles there. Some he was not surprised to see _The Art of War_ was one of them. Others included the _Metamorphoses_ by Ovid, _War and Peace _by Tolstoy, _A Treatise of Human Nature _by Hume, and all volumes of _The Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire_ by Bunyan. Alfred whistled in awe as he read over the titles. It was impressive. "These are some of the most influential books in human history" Alfred stated. Mordred hummed in agreement.

"**Don't forget this one" **a pale finger brushed the spine of a worn, leather bound tome. Alfred saw no title so he fingered the spine and pulled the book loose. There was no obvious title inscribed on it so America began to flip through the pages. The second he saw the text the book's identity became obvious.

"The Bible." Mordred nodded. Flipping back to the cover Alfred noticed something he had not seen before. There, crafted into the leather of the cover were four symbols. Crests perhaps, would have been the word Alfred would use. The four were arranged in a diamond pattern on the cover. The topmost featuring a phoenix centered within the same symbol for chaos Eris had inked into her back. '_Interesting.'_ The crest to the left held an upturned Celtic knot that pointed downwards. To the right, a locust whose face was a skull. And the bottom-most crest was that of the Greek symbol for Hades. A crescent moon overlapped with a cross. America ran his fingers over the crests, transfixed by them. He knew the top one was specific to Eris. And by the look of it, perhaps the one on the left was supposed to be Arthur. The Celts were part of his people right? But then... "Are one of these supposed to mean me?" he asked of his counterpart.

"**Now you're starting to get it"** Mordred said with a smile. A knock was heard on the door.

"If you don't mind I would like to speak with you America" it was Eris. And that was a surprisingly civil way of announcing her entrance. When no objection was posed, she stepped into the room and came to stand before America, not noticing how Mordred was studying her expression carefully. Eris studied the Bible held in America's hand with a smile. "You're figuring it out aren't you." It wasn't a question. A sudden urge to explain what had happened when he passed out overcame him.

"I... I had a vision. It was a memory of-of what happened before." Her eyes widened slightly.

"So that's what happened. You put Arthur into an awful fright you know. He was panicking about something possibly having happened to your country. But this has nothing to do with America does it?" She had a sly smile that reminded Alfred that this was still Eris, the woman who put this situation on him. He had almost forgotten after having seen her with Arthur so much. With him, she was like a different person. She was Victoria. "What did you see?"

Alfred swallowed and put the Bible down on the mantle. "War."

"You'll have to be more specific than that my dear. War is in many things."

Alfred met the request with a grimace. "I saw myself, fighting a war against you and Arthur. I lost. And then, something happened. Something terrible and wrong and... it was because of me." America glanced towards Mordred and Eris followed his gaze. Understanding washed over her.

"He's here isn't he?" Alfred looked confused. "Mordred" she clarified.

Jerking in surprise America nodded and Mordred suddenly looked a lot less comfortable. "How did you-?"

"I'm no fool. I need you to regain all of your memories but I figured you wouldn't be able to take it all in at once. Mordred is the manifestation of your suppressed self I think." Alfred and Mordred both blinked in surprise at how quickly she had caught on. "And if you were able to take in memories of that battle it is only a matter of time before it all comes back. I can't wait until then." She turned on her heel and started to make her way back towards the door.

"Hold it!"

She froze and turned back. "Hmm?"

_Blood._

_Judgement._

_Two black wings with feathers rimmed in embers were thrown down before him. Blood seeped onto the floor from where the two appendages were ripped from their host. Mordred screamed and thrashed against his bonds. Arthur was laying before him, unseeing eyes directed towards his horrified face. The stumps of bone and ripped flesh stuck up from two places on his back. He did not move even as Mordred called out his name. The pool of blood beneath the redhead's body simply continued to grow. "This is what you wanted isn't it?" came a voice Alfred did not recognize._

Alfred shook his head to rid himself of the last images the vision had shown him. "You were involved in what happened in the aftermath. You have to be. What the hell happened to Arthur? I saw... wings ripped from his back. You act like you care about him, but you had to have been there. Why didn't you do anything?" During this whole exchange Eris' expression had been blank. But as America had reached the end of his rant her hands had curled dangerously into fists which now shook.

"Don't. You. Dare." she warned. "Don't you dare put that on me. Yes I was present as judgement was passed on you for your sins. But I had no say in what occurred. I hold the bow. Not the scales. When I learned what was intended do you think I did not try to prevent what happened?" She reached out quickly and before Alfred could even take step back her palm landed flat over his heart. A vision appeared.

"_What are you doing!?" Eris thrashed as an invisible wall separated her from what was happening. A hooded figure stood over where Arthur lay almost unmoving. Only the lightest shaking of the redhead's frame indicated he was still conscious. A few paces past them Mordred was trying desperately to pull away from the chains that fastened him to the floor. Two golden-eyed guards stepped forward. _

_Arthur was struggling to pull himself away, dragging desperately across the ground. But the two guards reached him and hauled the other up by his arms so that the hooded man could stand directly behind him. "Forgive me brother" he said before reaching out and taking grip of Arthur's black wings at their base._

"_Stop! He's done nothing!" Eris' cries matched Mordred's as both tried to approach. But still Eris could move no further. The Scales of Judgement would not bend to her. The hooded man placed a foot between Arthur's wings and in one swift motion ripped the two from his back, causing the man to release an awful scream of pain._

Alfred gasped as the vision receded. Mordred looked ill and Eris beyond upset. After a few tense moments of silence she spoke. "Never doubt this America. What happened that day was your fault. You betrayed us, and he was dragged down with you."

Alfred shook his head in denial. "No. I remember. I tried to do something. You were the one who said you never lose. It still happened though didn't it? You were the one who lost him." It was immature, it was desperate. But America had nothing else he could say.

But, in the scale of stupid things America could have said. This was at the top. "What" was her frighteningly deadpanned response.

"**Dude. Back out. Now" **Mordred warned with a surprising amount of concern. But America wasn't always much for caution. When he charged into something. He didn't turn back.

"I think you're just full of yourself. Prideful and arrogant. I think I could beat you." At the challenge Eris stepped forward until she was so close to the other America could feel her breath against his lips. She tilted her head and stared deep into his eyes.

"You think you could beat me? You're such a child. I thought you were catching on but apparently not. Fine. I tried to be nice like Arthur wanted but that is clearly not possible. We'll settle this once and for all. You want to fight?" she glared up at him.

"Yeah."

"Fine then. Meet me an hour from now at the armory. Mordred can show you the way." She turned on her heel and left. Slamming the door as she exited.

"**America" **Mordred began and Alfred turned towards his reflection.

"What?"

"**You are so screwed."**

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"So, someone mind telling me how we got to this situation?" Arthur seemed oddly calm about this whole situation. An hour after their little spat Alfred found himself in another new room of the mansion. It was a large square area that was lined with all sorts of medieval weaponry. There were racks of swords of various lengths, battle axes, bows, and other, more exotic weapons. But nowhere could there be found a gun or any other modern weapon. Then, in the center, was a large mat which Alfred supposed was meant for sparring. The odd thing though, was that to the left of the mat was a small table with two chairs where Arthur was currently seated with a cup of tea in one hand and an awaiting pot placed on the table. He sat back in a relaxed fashion, quietly sipping his drink while Alfred and Eris continued to glare at each other. Alfred didn't miss how the elder was now wearing a red t-shirt with a black rose embroidered over the right shoulder in place of his now ruined uniform.

Mordred sighed and took the opposite seat to the Brit resting his head on one hand in a bored manner. "**No good reason bro. No good reason" **the dark-haired American answered Arthur's otherwise ignored question. For another minute or so the other two beings present simply continued to glare. The tension in the air was so palpable it almost seemed like bolts of electricity were shooting between the two pairs of eyes.

"So we each pick a weapon and go at it?" Alfred asked.

"That's right. We are allowed to cut and otherwise injure, but no maiming or attempted killing" Eris further clarified. "We fight until someone surrenders or Arthur declares one of us unable to continue" Arthur nearly did a spit take at that.

"Whoa whoa, who suddenly made me a referee?" he asked incredulously. "This whole thing is childish and a waste of time. Honestly Victoria I-"

"My love, please refrain from trying to stop this. I would rather not argue with you" Eris cut the other off and turned to give him a slightly deranged smile from over the shoulder. Arthur swallowed slightly, glaring right back, and Mordred started glancing between the two like a child frightened of his parents fighting.

"Eris, control yourself. This whole thing is stupid and honestly beneath you. Both of you." The woman frowned at Arthur's use of her other name but said nothing to it.

"Mordred challenged me" she defended.

"_Alfred _doesn't know any better."

"**He's right man. You're going to lose." **Alfred shook his head to drown out the different voices all trying to speak at once.

Eventually he had enough and shouted, "alright everyone shut up! Let's just do this thing." Huffing in slight embarrassment over his outburst Alfred quickly glanced over the weapons in the room and decided on a two-handed sword that he like the weight of. It would move slowly, but it would also strike with incredible strength, and that suited Alfred just fine. He gave the blade a few test swings.

"How inelegant" Eris commented. Alfred frowned. "No offense Arthur" she added with a small smile but Arthur just shrugged and waved her off to continue with what they were doing.

"Well, let's see what you've got." Two simultaneous facepalms from the peanut gallery although Alfred was the only one to pick up on the second. Eris smirked and strutted over to where a smooth bow was resting on a stand and took it up in her hand Arthur looked unsurprised, sipping his tea calmly but Alfred couldn't help but admit his confusion when she refrained from reaching for the quiver of arrows.

"Not gonna load that?" Arthur sniggered a little and shared a knowing look with Eris.

"Its nock dear boy. You don't load an arrow. You nock it. And no. This is a close quarters fight, arrows would be too easy to dodge from this distance. In a display of skill Eris began to twirl the bow in her hand, moving it almost like someone would a baton. She finished in a fighting stance and raised her hand in a beckoning manner. "Your move boy." And just like that it began.

Alfred rushed the woman with his sword and Eris danced out of the way with a quick duck and a twirl. Coming out behind him, she swung her arm back and let the point of her bow strike America in back of the head, earning her a grunt from the other. "You're not using your head Alfred" Arthur commented offhandedly.

"Don't need your help" he growled in annoyance. Alfred turned and swung his sword again, this time in a side swoop. Eris laughed lightheartedly and danced away again.

"**Yes you do" **Mordred corrected. He looked very comfortable sitting opposite Arthur, watching this all play out. '_Shut up you' _Alfred hissed in his mind. A few more times the two danced around one another. neither making contact until Eris ended up not three feet from the other. Too close to avoid Alfred's blow.

He swung, and much to America's surprise Eris simply caught the blade between the drawstring and lower limb before twisting the bow and simultaneously wrenching the blade from the nation's hand. The steel went clattering to the ground and Eris kicked it away where Arthur stopped its' slide with a foot. "Give up?" she asked. Alfred growled and shook his head. He charged and swung his fist. She dodged, but this time he was ready. Alfred dropped to the ground and swung his leg just as Eris landed and swept her feet out from under her so that she landed on her back.

"Getting a little overconfident love?" Arthur inquired of the fallen woman.

"Not on your life." Alfred lunged to pin Eris to the ground but was shocked to find her quickly raising her feet and, almost moving too fast to really see, locked her ankles around the back of Alfred's neck and started to squeeze. Alfred went down and started to see stars as the legs around his windpipe tightened. "Yield" she demanded. Alfred tried to use his immense strength to remove the constriction but all that earned him was an even tighter grip. Alfred felt he was about to pass out.

"**Told you so."**

"Alright enough. Victoria wins. Let him go." As soon as the words were spoken the pressure on his neck was gone and Alfred rolled over and began coughing Eris jumped nimbly to her feet and placed the bow back on its stand. She said nothing as Alfred struggled back to his feet.

"Remember this Mordred. I _always _win" she walked over to where Arthur was still sitting and leaned down to pick up the discarded sword. She tossed the weapon to Alfred. "That does not suit you. You need a different weapon should you need to fight again." Alfred scowled and replaced the sword in its place.

"I had a gun but that seems to have been misplaced somewhere." Eris made a face.

"A crude weapon."

"I seem to recall you using one on me" Arthur interjected and Eris pouted a bit childishly.

"A reminder, I was in a bad mood."

"Hmph" still a smile made its way onto Arthur's face. "And, what spoils does the victor claim?"

Now Victoria was full on gleeful. She bent over and took the tea from his hand and placed it back on the table and then took his hand. "True enough. In every war the spoils belong to the victor. Shall I take you with me to dine then?" Arthur smiled and rose to his feet.

"It shall be my honor to escort you" he gave slight tilt of the head then took the lead. With hands intertwined they exited the room, leaving America stunned and watching.

"**Close your mouth before a bird flies in" **Mordred muttered in slight amusement. He strode past and waited at the door. "**Well, are you coming? I suppose you don't have to eat if you don't want to." **Alfred shook his head and scurried off after Mordred, still rubbing his sore neck from the abuse it had taken. But he knew the bruise to his pride would linger far longer. "**You shouldn't feel too bad you know" **Mordred offered as they walked through the mansion.

"I picked a fight with a girl and lost. What's not to feel bad about?"

"**Like I said" **Mordred gestured to a set of double doors. Two golden-eyed guards bowed and pulled them back to reveal a large dining hall. At its center was a long table wherein Eris sat at its head. And to her right was Arthur. A seat was left open to her left for Alfred. "**She is no common woman. She does not lose. To have fought and survived is honor enough." **Eris and Arthur stood as Alfred entered the room, and the silver woman gestured for him to take the empty seat. He did so.

For a while they sat and ate in silence. Especially Alfred when he realized that it had been several days since he last ate. He shoveled food in like it would be his last meal while the others present consumed their meals at a much more calm pace. There was silence for a while longer until eventually Mordred couldn't take it any longer. "**My God someone say something!" **which really could only be effectively directed at Alfred since neither of the other two could hear him.

"So" Alfred began. "How much longer until I remember everything?" It was the only thing he could think of to say. Eris was the one who answered him.

"It depends on you. The extent of your idiocy will decide when this ends." Alfred felt his eyebrow twitch.

"Victoria lay off him" Arthur warned, recognizing America's anger starting to boil over.

Alfred slammed his fist on the table and in his rage missed the sly smile growing on Mordred's lips. "What is your problem! Are you just so completely insane that you can't pick a personality! You're a total bitch one moment then normal the next. When we first met you had Arthur shot for God's sake then the next day I find the two of you in bed together!" Arthur now had a healthy blush but was still sending furtive glances to an oddly silent Victoria. "Sometimes I wonder if it really is that you're insane or maybe just evil."

"Mordred stop it!" Arthur suddenly shouted. Alfred froze in his ranting and gaped at what left his mouth. It wasn't like him to suddenly get so angry. He glanced over to Eris who had a pained look on her face as she stared adamantly ahead, but not meeting anyone's gaze. A dark chuckle sounded from behind him and Alfred turned to see Mordred holding a hand over his mouth to stifle his laughing.

"Why? Is she sensitive about that? About how people consider her more as a tool of the Devil than anything even remotely good?" America didn't know where the words were coming from, only that he couldn't keep from saying them. Not to mention the fact that in that moment he spoke as if he knew exactly who she was.

"SHUT UP!" Eris finally screamed. She was now standing and glaring angrily at America. "Don't _ever _even suggest such a thing."

"**It looks like we really are becoming one" **Alfred felt a sudden chill as Mordred said the words with a cruel satisfaction. He now noticed that Mordred was no longer sitting quietly, rather he was standing and had been up until now whispering the words Alfred had spoken into his ear.

"I-I'm sorry" he stuttered out, still shocked and horrified by what had just occurred. Eris had a look of anger, but in her violet eyes America could see hurt flashing powerfully. "I don't know what came over me" he admitted.

Eris sighed and nodded, taking her seat as well. "Mordred?" she offered as a way of explanation and Alfred nodded.

Arthur was still just watching the two carefully when a cough slipped past his lips. He must have swallowed something down the wrong pipe. He continued to cough and both arguing figures turned to him in concern. "You okay Iggy?" Eris shot a strange look to America then turned and started rubbing circles in England's back.

"Who in God's name is Iggy?" she asked. Even through his hacking England managed to roll his eyes.

"He's Iggy" America admitted pointing to Arthur.

"That's a terrible nickname." Arthur coughed one more time before his eyes suddenly shot wide. All at once everything went to hell.

A guard with golden eyes ran in and started reporting on how the intruders on the grounds had retreated.

And then England started coughing up blood. Red fluid shot from his mouth and as he tried to stand the Brit collapsed onto the ground, his whole body shaking. "Arthur!" Victoria shot down to his side, looking frightened and confused for the first time America could see. "What's going on!"

Arthur rolled to his side and started gripping at his chest with a pained face and shot a pleading expression to America. A metaphorical lightbulb went off in the young nation's head. This was eerily familiar to him. And memories of dark nights filled with nothing but England's screams and the sound of low-flying planes. He rushed over and knelt beside him. "What happened England?" he asked even as he was sure he knew. Call it a nation's intuition. Arthur opened his mouth to answer but instead more blood came out. He spit out the red fluid and then answered in a quiet and shaking voice,

"L-London... B-Bomb."

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**Ugh this is such a bad chapter. But it's over. And there we go, stuff is starting to go down and from here on out is should be mostly nonstop until the end. Please tell me what you think. It will help me update faster!**


	8. Chapter 8

**Not much to say at the start of this except that I hope you enjoy. Quick disclaimer I DO NOT WRITE ACTION SCENES NORMALLY. I find it difficult and prefer dialogue. Can you tell? Most of this story has been dialogue between the same three characters. Even still I do hope it isn't too difficult to follow. Especially since there will be more to come. Alright enough from me.**

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"_L-London... B-Bomb"_

Alfred wasted no time. In a quick move he swept England off the ground and slung him over his back so that he was carrying the wounded nation, holding onto his legs as Arthur clung weakly around his neck and shoulders. "We need to find a place for him to rest. Can you lead us back to his room?" America asked of Eris, with the calm determination of a superpower. Still shocked, the woman nodded and started racing out of the dining hall with Alfred and Mordred hot on her heels.

"I know a closer place." She led them down a few unfamiliar passages until they burst into a kind of sitting room that was fitted with couches, chairs, and a television mounted on the wall. America gently lowered England onto the long couch and the elder nation groaned in pain. "It's his heart then?" Eris asked for clarification.

"Yeah, something must have happened to his country." Alfred bent over to check the rest of England's body for injuries. Eris cursed and with a snap of her fingers the television in the room flipped on and turned to a news broadcast where scenes of fires and crumbling buildings could be seen. Alfred would recognize that city anywhere, even as damaged as it was. The reporter was talking about some sort of terrorist bombing on the major sites in London. There was confusion on who was responsible seeing as none of the known terrorist groups had claimed credit for the act. Then suddenly there was some commotion and it was announced that a second attack had apparently been attempted on Washington D.C. Alfred's blood ran cold at the news. Someone had targeted him too? This couldn't be a coincidence. Luckily though, it seemed that as soon as word spread about the London bombing all the other countries had gone onto high alert and America's military had managed to eliminate the threat before it could be carried out. Alfred breathed a sigh of relief.

"Who could be responsible for this?" Eris asked no one in particular. England let out another series of groans and more blood leaked from the corner of his mouth. Eris rushed over and took his hand.

"Victoria it has to be them. They retreated from here to try a different tactic" Arthur managed to get out between mostly clenched teeth. Eris frowned and shook her head in denial.

"No. There's no way. They never knew about the two of you. We were so careful to keep it a secret." Just then the video feed flickered and turned to static. All eyes went to the screen as three words appeared. Eris rose to her feet, fingers clenched into tight fists that shook with the force of her barely restrained rage.

'_We Are Legion' _

"DAMN IT ALL!" Eris cursed and picked up the closest object to her, which just so happened to be a vase, and flung it at the screen. The screen cracked in a series of sparks and broken shards of glass and water began to pool beneath the mess.

Mordred was growling in anger and Alfred felt like he was missing something obvious. "Who is Legion?" Eris was seething, her breaths coming out like growls and hisses. Her eyes narrowed and once again Alfred could have sworn that her pupils were turning to slits. Her whole body began to shake and the lights flickered. A nearby window shattered. America took several steps back towards England to stand between him and the clearly unstable woman.

"Victoria" England tried to weakly gain the other's attention but in his subdued state he could barely speak at all. America felt a hand on his arm and saw that England was trying to get closer to her but needed his help.

"Not a good idea man" he warned and tried to push the elder man back down again but Arthur just shook his head and insisted.

"She can't lose control. Get me closer. Now." The hardened look in Arthur's eyes convinced Alfred to do as he asked. They edged closer and when Eris came into arm's reach he reached out and grasped her hand.

"Victoria." This time she turned to face the calm voice and her shaking froze. America gulped when he saw how dark her eyes had become. Almost black.

"I will slaughter them all" she said to him in an eerie whisper. Arthur just gave her a sad look and shook his head.

"Victoria. Calm. Down." The effect was immediate. Her features softened and her eyes returned to the deep violet Alfred had become accustomed to. Without another word she gently tugged him back to the couch and urged him to sit; he did so. Suddenly another round of coughs engulfed him and he even screamed once in pain. His whole body began to shake and a cold sweat overtook his body.

"Damn this. You should not be this weak." Eris cursed again, brushing England's hair from his brow and rubbing comforting circles in his hand which was entwined with hers.

Alfred frowned at her clear lack of understanding. "His physical body is being attacked. It's not his fault." Arthur gasped one more time, then surprisingly enough his shivering stopped. Alfred put a hand on his brow and his eyes widened a bit in surprise. "You have a bad fever but it looks like the worst is over. How? With London destroyed you should be in much worse shape."

Arthur sat up and sighed in relief. "I think some of the Commonwealth countries are helping. This feeling" he put a hand over his heart. "It reminds me of Canada somehow."

"Who?" Victoria asked.

"Alfred's brother." Victoria nodded but then immediately forgot. "Victoria, you need to complete the seal" said woman shot her wandering gaze to Arthur and shook her head.

"No." she refused immediately.

"What seal?" Alfred was starting to get sick of being ignored.

Victoria started pacing back and forth but it was Arthur who spoke. "A time seal. I know she must have started one before this all began. Now I'm telling her to finish it. Doing so will ensure everything can go back to normal when this is over. Reset the clock." Alfred nodded and then both nations turned to look at Eris who appeared extremely conflicted.

"...Fine." she eventually relented. Eris quickly traced some sort of sign over her chest with a finger and then let her arm drop. Alfred wondered what exactly that was supposed to do, but when Arthur saw he immediately relaxed and rested back against the couch with a sigh of relief.

The three figures in the room all remained silent for a while. Arthur trying to rest and regain his strength, Alfred watching over him, and Eris pacing the room and trying to puzzle out what exactly was going on. Finally, Alfred broke the silence. "Who is Legion." Arthur and Eris shared a cautious look.

"They are many. Six thousand strong by my estimate. If they are the ones attacking though, that means there is some larger party behind this." Arthur nodded his head in agreement.

"One of the Fallen if I were to guess" England concurred to which Eris hummed her agreement.

The door to the room swung open and one of Eris' guards walked in. This man, like the other's Alfred had seen, had short brown hair and golden eyes. "What is it Karael?" Eris asked of him.

"The intruders have regrouped and are now attacking in full force. Kalaziel and Rizoel have taken their groups into battle but we may yet be overrun." Karael, while announcing news which was rather grave in America's opinion, did not seem too distraught. He face remained impassive as he delivered his message.

"Gather the rest of your brethren and mount your assault. I will join you shortly. Iaoth and Briathos are waiting for me to call them. Do so on my behalf."

Arthur added in, "Leo will be of use to you as well. Tell him I sent you and he will bring Ariel with him" Karael nodded and departed quickly. "This isn't good Victoria, if they stopped long enough to attack our countries and are now back..."

"I know I know. Shit. I will deal with this" Eris made for the door but then stopped when an explosion engulfed the entire compound. All three of them were sent stumbling and when the rumbling ceased, Alfred heard the same sounds he caught wind of when he had reached the front door with Mordred. The sounds of screams and snarls like those of wild beasts filled each of their ears.

"**Well, that can't be good" **Mordred muttered under his breath. '_No shit sherlock' _Alfred shot back at him with an annoyed look. He was still rather wary of Mordred after what had happened in the dining hall.

"They've breached the Keep" Eris gasped in shock. She rounded on her heel and turned to face the two nations before her. "Lahabiel!" she called and a guard appeared with two others through the doorway. "Take Arthur and escort him to his room. America, go to yours. Mordred will show you the way. Stay there until I settle this." Victoria made her orders clear and Lahabiel and the other two guards with him went and helped Arthur to his feet before making their way out the doorway. Weak as he was, England accepted the help and allowed himself to be lead out.

"**Let's go kid" **Mordred urged and Alfred left with him, wanting to help, but filled with the feeling that he would only get in the way. They raced through passageways, trying to ignore the sounds of screams and roars as they neared a familiar door. Pushing through the wooden entryway they entered the cream and pale-green room Alfred had first awoken in several days prior. Alfred heaved a sigh of relief and then started pacing back and forth with worry in his heart. He hoped Arthur would be okay. '_I should have made sure he made it to his room safely first_.'

'_**Should relax more. Going to drive himself crazy worrying so much. Lahabiel will protect him' **_Alfred froze mid-step. Mordred hadn't said that outloud. That meant...

"**You can read my thoughts now" **Mordred realized with a shocked face that was perfectly mirrored in Alfred. The nation shook his head.

"No, it was a onetime thing. A fluke."

_He saw himself as Mordred standing beside three other figures. Eris, in her silver armor, Arthur in his red, and a third man in a brown cloak with a hood that covered his face. "Mordred" Arthur called his name, black wings rustling behind his back._

Alfred gasped at the glimpse of a memory. "What the hell?" America brought a hand to his head and tried to rub the images away.

"**I transferred a memory to you. Not long now and everything will become clear. I will be able to fuse with you once again." **Mordred appeared pleased by this assessment but Alfred was anything but.

America stepped away from Mordred and put as much distance between the two of them as possible. "No. No no no I don't want to be you. I've seen what you did. What happened because of you" he said in an accusatory tone. Mordred frowned.

'_**You don't understand yet. You know some but not everything. Perhaps you want to?' **_The thought was posed like a question but to Alfred was clearly a threat.

"Don't" but it was too late. The vision came.

_Mordred rode up to a set of golden gates on his speckled grey steed, anticipation flooding his heart The horse's pale green eyes seemed to almost glow. Golden-eyed warriors were lined behind him and Azrael and Yehudiah followed on either side. Together they marched on the gates and Mordred saw a lone figure riding a red horse blocking their way. His skeletal wings instinctively flexed in challenge and the other's black ones did the same. "Arthur" he acknowledged once they were close enough to speak._

"_Mordred."_

"_What are you doing here? If I recall correctly you said that you would not try to stop me" Mordred saw the pained look on Arthur's face but ignored it. The redhead glanced over Mordred's shoulder to take in his assembled army._

"_I did not come to stop you. I came to ask you one last time. Please Mordred. Do not do this. I won't stop you walking through those gates but if you do so you become my enemy. If this is the largest army you could muster then you only show how grossly overconfident you are. You can't beat Victoria and I this way. You set yourself up for failure." Mordred frowned and urged his horse forward so that he was now past Arthur. The gates swung open before him. Arthur did not look back to stop him, just as he had said._

"_If you are not with me then you are against me Arthur. I may not be able to beat Victoria as I am now, but I think with enough help I'll be able to overcome you."_

"_Are you threatening me Mordred?" he asked with slight intrigue._

"_Perhaps."_

"_Then I suppose we shall have to see. What happened to you Mordred? We used to be so close" there was pain there in the older man's voice._

"_And we still are. When this is all over you will see. You're my brother. I love you."_

"_But you love your power more." Mordred said nothing to that._

"Stop it!" Alfred shouted at Mordred from where he had collapsed to the floor. He was laying the fetal position with his hands gripping his head. "Why are you doing this?" he asked, no pleaded with the other. All of this was wrong. He wasn't that person. He liked being strong, but he would never go to war for the sole purpose of gaining power. He fought for what was right. For what he believed in. He was the hero! Not... not Mordred.

"**You need to remember. You need to be Mordred. Not Alfred, not America, Mordred." **the dark-haired American urged.

Alfred groaned in exasperation. "Now is NOT the time!"

Mordred growled in his own frustration. "**We don't have time! There is power in you. Power that you can only use if you become Mordred. And if you want to help at all in what is going on out there you need to remember who you really are!" **As if to accentuate his words the sound of screaming, not animalistic, but human screaming reached both America's ears.

"I don't want to be a villain!" Alfred shouted. Because that was all he could see in becoming Mordred. Yes maybe he would be powerful somehow. But it was clear that everything that was going wrong stemmed from something Mordred had done. Mordred had been the villain. Said villain rolled his eyes.

"**Then don't be! It's as simple as that. The past is just that. The past. Learn from it and make a better future. Right now you're not being a hero. All you are is a coward who is scared of his own reflection!" **

There were more screams and the sounds of commotion increased outside of Alfred's door. "Someone find Victoria! Lahabiel hang on!" At the sound of the name of Arthur's escort both Alfred and Mordred jumped to their feet. Forgetting the argument they had been having moments before the two raced from the room and through the hallways until they found where the other group had ended up.

All around them were strange creatures. Human figures with horns curling out of their heads and bat-like wings. They each had a spaded tail and carried medieval weapons like those Eris kept in her armory. Swords, and axes, and bows. They were locked in combat with Eris' golden-eyed guards. Blood was splattering about and the screams of the dying filled America's ears. It was like a war-zone. "**Demons" **Mordred growled.

And in the center of this chaos, was England with his three escorts who were fighting off a horde of demons surrounding them. The one who Eris had spoken to, Lahabiel, was holding a sword and fending off a demon when another came up behind him and stabbed him through the back. "Lahabiel!" Arthur rushed forward and took up the fallen man's sword and used it to cut through the demon who had hurt the other. The Brit knelt down and felt for a pulse from the other. From the way Alfred saw the older nation close his eyes solemnly he could tell that there was none to be found. Soon after the now armed blond went to stand back to back to his two other guards, each with a sword in hand and started fighting off the demons who charged in around them.

Alfred moved to help but was caught by Mordred. "**You can't do anything like this. You don't have a proper weapon!" **Alfred tried to rip himself free of the other's grip but could do nothing. He watched helpless and unnoticed as Arthur and the two others continued to fight. America was impressed by how well England was holding his own. Even greatly weakened by the destruction of London he still fought incredibly with the sword. But soon enough his other two defenders were cut down as well and then it was just Arthur trying to fend off the demons around him.

The snarling hellions seemed to be trying to lure the Englishman towards a certain direction as America watched Arthur retreat down a series of hallways and even down a flight of stairs until he reached the main floor near the entrance. Arthur was breathing heavily, sweat pouring down his face and blood dripping from several wounds as well as from the corner of his mouth. The demons snickered at the sight of his weakened figure. England did not allow himself to be distracted though, as he remained in a defensive stance, eyes narrowed in concentration. Alfred once again tried to move forward to help, but Mordred was still successfully holding him back, even going so far as to clap a hand over America's mouth to keep him from calling out.

For a while longer the demons continued to try and get the upper hand on Arthur but the green-eyed blond was experienced enough with sword fighting that even in his weakened state he could hold his own. Then, at some unheard signal the demons stopped their advance and retreated. Confused, Arthur glanced around until he saw a figure that simply radiated power. A tall man wearing black armor with a head of curly brown hair and red eyes. The man was larger even than Russia and had two giant wings of black feathers coming out of his back. But unlike Arthur's from Alfred's memories these were ugly things that appeared sickly and diseased. The feathers were mottled and some looked on the verge of falling off. In some places there was nothing at all, the very feathers and flesh gone leaving nothing but bone in their place. It made Alfred sick even to look at them.

At the sight of the man approaching Arthur noticeably paled and even took a retreating step back from him. That earned cheers from the demons around them. "Beleth" he gasped in disbelief. The man smirked, revealing fangs and strode into a makeshift ring the demons had formed around him and the much smaller Brit.

"Arthur. Oh how low you've gotten." England growled and readied his sword again, having steeled himself once more. "I remember when I last fought you during the War of the Fallen. I didn't stand a chance" he snickered. "But now look at you. We haven't even begun and you're practically shaking." All of a sudden Beleth charged and swung a black blade out of nowhere towards the unsuspecting blond. Arthur cried out in shock and dove forward under the blade and rolled back to his feet. Unfortunately, Beleth seemed to have anticipated the move and took a second swing, successfully slashing the other across the back. England screamed in pain and went down to one knee. Part of the shirt he was wearing fell away to reveal his two scars. Beleth's smile grew even more at the sight of them.

Arthur snarled and fought to his feet once again. His whole body visibly shook and it looked like he would collapse at any second "Don't look so smug Beleth. Better to have none than those disgusting, probably disease-ridden things you call wings" he spat. Alfred silently cheered the defiance. Beleth frowned.

"I have you and your brother to thank for that. As for whether having none is better, well, we'll see." Twirling his black sword once again Beleth charged Arthur and the two locked into a stalemate. For a moment the two remained even, but soon enough Beleth gained the upper hand and started to push Arthur back. Arthur retreated until his back was pushed against a wall and Beleth started pushing the locked swords closer and closer to the nation's neck. "Do you yield?" he asked with a smirk.

"Never" Arthur spit in his face, their close proximity allowing him to aim perfectly into Beleth's red eyes. The man screeched in pain and pulled back. Arthur took advantage of the situation and sent a kick into the other's crotch before knocking the black sword out of his hands. Beleth fell onto his back and Arthur raised his sword above the other intent to drive it through his fallen foe.

"**Damn, the old man's still got his moves" **Mordred admired. '_Pirate' _was all Alfred felt the need to say as way of explanation. But Mordred and America's relief was short-lived as it was just then that a demon holding a crossbow used his weapon to send a bolt straight through the back of England's leg. The older nation gasped in pain and fell to one knee before another bolt was fired and impaled itself in his shoulder. He screamed and fell onto his back beside Beleth. Said man took the time to recover and stand back to his feet, now staring down at the fallen nation with a satisfied smirk.

"Oh so close little wingless pigeon." Beleth reached down and, taking a fist full of Arthur's hair, tossed the nation across the room and sent him colliding into the wall. England cried out once again as he struck the wall and Alfred flinched as he saw the crater left behind by the impact. Alfred began to struggled once again against Mordred's hold but nothing he did could free him from the other.

Beleth made his way over to where England was slowly trying to struggle back to his feet from where he had fallen face flat on the ground but as soon as the tall man got close enough he set his foot down on the small of Arthur's back and pushed him back down, twisting the angle a bit so that the armored heel irritated the angry red slash from where Beleth's sword had cut him before. The Brit groaned in agony and Beleth chuckled happily.

The winged assailant knelt down beside the fallen nation and once again gripped his hair and forcibly lifted England's head to force him to look the other in the eye. Arthur glared but couldn't stop himself from flinching as his hair was pulled. "Where's that little brother of yours who always used to follow you around? Mordred. Isn't he coming to help you? Oh wait. He's the reason you're in this mess isn't he." Beleth laughed at how England visibly winced at the words.

Hearing Beleth's words America renewed his thrashing with new vigor. '_Mordred please we need to help!' _he inwardly begged, but Mordred still did nothing.

"**I'm telling you we can't. You can't do anything the way you are now. If you want to help him you need to be able to remember everything. You need to remember how to use the power you stole." **America still wasn't listening so Mordred shook him again. "**If you go down there now both of you will die."**

"Arthur!" From the opposite side of the room appeared Victoria. In her hands she held her white bow and she was dressed in her silver armor. Two white wings were spread wide behind her. Beleth looked up and smiled when he saw who it was. Eris drew her bow and aimed an arrow at Beleth. "Release him. Now" she demanded.

"Ah, beautiful Victoria, how I have waited for this moment." Beleth greeted. "Come to offer your surrender?" he asked in a deceptively innocent tone.

"As if." In demonstration of her sentiment Eris flapped her giant wings once and in response a bright light shot from them, consuming many of the demons around them and turning them to ash. "You cannot defeat me in battle Beleth. Return to the pit from whence you came else I will slay you now."

"Ah but I need not defeat you in battle. Especially when I have this" Beleth rose to his feet and pulled England up with him by the grip he still had on the hair. Beleth pulled the wounded nation tight against his chest and wrapping his arms in such a way that with a twist and the right amount of force he could snap the other's neck. Eris' wings twitched in fear and her face dissolved into a look of dread and despair. Eris' wings twitched and her hold on the bow faltered for a moment. "So fragile isn't he? It would be so easy, just a quick twist and it's over." To demonstrate he applied the slightest pressure to Arthur's neck, causing the Brit to slip a grunt of pain. Victoria let loose an arrow and it collided inches from Beleth's face.

"I. Said. Release him. The next arrow goes through your head Betrayer."

Beleth made a face. "I never swore my loyalty to you."

"But we all swore a loyalty to the one above all. And it is Him you have betrayed." Victoria trained her arrow carefully but Beleth still retained his hold.

The dark-winged man laughed. "Enough of this. Lower your bow and surrender or I kill him now." There was fear hidden in the depths of Eris' eyes as she searched for Arthur's gaze, but from the angle Alfred could not see his expression.

"You can't. He is a nation, snap his neck and he will revive in time" her voice wavered slightly, revealing her own doubt in the words.

"Perhaps once. But a little bird recently told me that the United Kingdom was attacked recently. London is nothing but ash and dust and England on the verge of collapse. In such a state I wonder if what you say is still true. Should we test it out?"

With a growl upon her lips Eris drew back her arrow even further in preparation to strike. "You bastard." But then, something settled in her and she slowly began to lower the weapon.

"Victoria don't" Arthur warned.

"Quiet you" Beleth raised one of his hands and covered Arthur's mouth. The blond nation struggled for a bit but it was clear he was at the complete mercy of the other. Eris seethed but didn't move to either raise or further lower her weapon. Beleth seemed to grow impatient and rolled his eyes at Eris indecision. "What is your choice hm?"

Arthur continued to rage in his confinement and managed to throw his head back to strike his captor in the face and momentarily free his mouth. "Victoria don't you dare-!" Beleth replaced his hand and silenced the Brit again. At Arthur's encouragement though Eris braced herself once more and fired an arrow towards the two. Beleth dodged, but barely.

The tall demon growled in anger, baring his fangs slightly. "You will regret that. It seems you won't be able to make a timely decision so I give you this ultimatum. Surrender to me within two days or I kill your Second." With his threat made Beleth raised his black wings and beat them once, conjuring a storm of wind and feathers that obscured Alfred's view and probably Eris' as well.

"Beleth!" Alfred heard Eris screech in outrage, but when the flurry of feathers ceased there was no trace of the man, the demons, or Arthur. Alfred felt his stomach drop. "Arthur" she called quietly, letting her bow drop to the ground when she realized the blond was no longer there.

'_He's gone. How could we let this happen?' _Mordred was silent, and when America glanced back at him he saw the same fear in his eyes as he did in Eris. Speaking of which, she had now followed her bow to the ground, and now rested on her knees in a posture of disbelief and despair. "**Impossible. She... lost?" **Mordred didn't seem to be able to understand. "**I suppose, I always said that he was her weakness." **Eris bent her head and started to cry, her white wings drooping to the ground and their light dying slightly. '_We have to help' _America though simply. It was no longer a question. England was in danger and if Eris couldn't handle it Alfred would have to help. No matter what that meant.

While Mordred sent Alfred a measuring look Eris' sobs turned into gasps of rage and her body shook. Like the short lapse in control he had witnessed before Alfred saw the feathers of her wings bristle and fan out in a display of outrage. Her eyes shot open and appeared to Alfred like black pits. She bent her head back and let out a roar of fury. Alfred and Mordred both had to clasp their hands over their ears at the sound. '_**Come on, it's dangerous to be anywhere close to her when she gets like this' **_Mordred urged, and Alfred nodded his head before rising to his feet and following the other quickly back to their room. Behind him the walls shook and anything made of glass began to shatter in wake of the chaos Eris was unleashing.

Not soon enough the pair arrived at Alfred's door and quickly made their way inside and slammed the door shut, thankfully blocking out the sound of screams.

"Mordred. If I remember everything, will I be able to end this?" America asked with cool determination.

"**If you knew who you really were we could have stopped this before everything LITERALLY went to Hell!" **Mordred elaborated with frustration. America flinched but understood his anger. Much of this _was _his fault for being too reluctant to remember. But now England's life was at stake and he needed to be the hero. Even if that meant becoming a villain again.

With a deep breath for preparation Alfred said, "I'm ready. Tell me."

"**Are you sure?"**

"No. But I don't think you care about that." Mordred smirked.

"**True enough"** Mordred walked over to the chess table and plucked the pale colored knight up and walked around to stand behind the American and Alfred could hear the sound of skeletal wings shifting behind him. Mordred placed one hand on America's shoulder while the other handed the carved horse's head to Alfred. Alfred lifted the piece and stared at the knight. He felt that door in his mind opening once more, and this time did not fight it. Mordred leaned in close and whispered into his ear. "**When he opened the fourth seal, I heard the voice of the fourth living creature say, 'Come!' And I looked, and behold, a pale horse!" **Alfred suddenly felt a deep pain in his back and doubled over in pain. Screaming in agony he felt something shifting beneath the skin and rip through flesh. America heard the sound of blood splattering around him on the walls. A new sensation filled him, and he became aware that he could now move and control the foreign objects on his back. Flexing one, he was only partially surprised when he discovered the same skeletal wings he had seen many times in his memories. Drenched in blood and fully formed. By this time, Mordred was gone but his voice lingered on and finished the familiar verse.

"**And its rider's name was Death, and Hades followed him."**

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**Alright so Alfred/Mordred/America's identity is revealed! And way to go England you get to play damsel in distress... Again... Seriously almost every story. Well whatever. Anyway knowing that America is Death should probably make it obvious who everyone else is but in case it's not everything will be explained in the next chapter. Basically it will be all backstory so if you have any specific questions or things you want explained in that let me know and as I will try to add it in. So yeah, please tell me what you think. It will help me update faster! And thanks to everyone who is keeping up with this story!**


	9. Chapter 9

**Okay wow... I feel like I just ran a marathon. This chapter is so long. After finishing it I considered cutting it into two but at this point I don't want to bother with finding a good place to divide the backstory so I am leaving it as is. To be honest I could probably make a whole other multi chapter story of just this backstory. But I don't want to stray away too much from the main plot line so here we are. Enjoy!**

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The Four Horsemen, as Victory, War, Pestilence, and Death came to be called, were unlike any other of God's creations. They were not the holy, perfect, and virtuous things the angels were, but neither were they like the frail, weak, and inconstant things of the Earth. As such they found no proper home behind the high walls of Heaven or through the gates of Paradise. But neither did they seek a hearth past the iron gates of the Pit. Instead they made their home in a middle plane. In many ways it was much like Earth. There were many landscapes and many changes in season, but in this place nothing ever died. The foliage bloomed and receded and bloomed again. But there was no rot or decay. All that was there was made to service the Four.

The Horsemen were made in the image of what He had foreseen to be the great calamities of man. The first personifications from which the nations of the Earth would later be fashioned after. Meant to dance the line between the light and dark. They were promised power over the realm of man when the time came and given leave to let loose their destructive powers under a single vow. To honor the sanctity of the pact. The four seals which bound their power were not to be harmed upon where they rested on the silver gates leading to Earth. This was their single command. One could say it was the apple of their Eden. And unlike with Adam and Eve, there was yet to be a serpent to deceive them.

The first born of the Four was by far the most complex and contradicting. For she was both Chaos and Conquest. Strife, as well as Victory.

"**Now I watched when the Lamb opened one of the seven seals, and I heard one of the four living creatures say with a voice like thunder, 'Come!' And I looked, and behold, a white horse! And its rider had a bow, and a crown was given to him, and he came out conquering, and to conquer." (Revelations 6:1-2).**

When she was born she awoke into a strange world. A white expanse with endless boundaries of soft snow. And as she rose to her feet she looked above to see the strange white clumps of cold fall from a black sky lit only by the countless stars above. To her there were but two colors, black and white; and both were beautiful. She became entranced by the hypnotic dance of the fragile yet unique flakes. Unable to look away as they fell about her. An urge to gaze upon her own form overcame the girl. One who did not know better might have called it vanity but in truth it was mere curiosity. She raised two pale arms and traced the outline of her smooth flesh and long fingers, fascinated by the slight flush of pink that hid beneath the thin white-grey skin. She saw the tips of her silver-black hair which fell far past her shoulders to rest near her hip. It reminded her of snow against the black sky and it pleased her.

The desire to explore overcame her, and to answer her want two white wings began to flutter at her back. At first the sensation frightened her for the soft appendages seemed to have a will of their own, but as she came to know the freedom of flight she laughed and soared. Across her solitary world she marveled as she passed the many different lands. She passed from her birthplace of snow to see a vast forest of green, an empty sea of hot, red sand, and the shining fields of golden wheat. Countless and endless were the environments about her, for her. She was pleased. And then she saw the three gates.

The first was thick and carved of jasper stone, creating a reddish-pink glow. And past these gates was a long and winding road leading to a beautiful city of gold hidden behind a high wall. '_Paradise' _the word, the name, was whispered to her ignorant mind. The realm of the Almighty. She arrived at the great gates but they did not open for her. The girl frowned but did not despair. While the city was magnificent and from it echoed many pretty voices, there was still much in her own realm which sought her attention and she easily turned away.

The girl flew on and soon came upon the second gate. A silver gateway locked behind four seals inscribed in the metalworking. She approached these gates and again was stopped. The seals held fast the doors and she learned that unless they were broken she could not pass. To this effect she reached a hand towards the gate when the voice decreed, '_This is not for you to touch' _and immediately her hand was retracted. Inside she felt her first glimpse of fear. Forbidden, that was what these seals were. The door to her cage. For that was what this was no? Many gates lay before her it seemed but none could be opened. Her cage was vast and held many wonders, but still it was a cage. But on this she did not dwell, instead she looked to the second realm that lay beyond the sealed gate and saw many different environments much like the ones she had seen on her side. Great sands, forests, snows, and plains lay before her. '_Earth' _was the word whispered to her. The realm of man. While the girl learned of disappointment and confinement here she still did not despair.

After some time she looked away from the world beyond her cage and once again flew on until she saw a final gate. This one of twisted and rusting iron. Beyond this gate, was a burning pit. She looked into the pit but saw nothing within. There were no whispers of a name, no sounds of those who lived below. Nothing but unclean fire and sulfur and darkness that burned and consumed. This realm held nothing to draw the girl. But out of her curiosity she approached, and unlike the two prior gates these swung open the second she came close. Yet this was no escape from the cage. Instead it was a false exit. A treacherous path. A trap. The girl was no fool so she did not step through. Instead she turned back to the cage. '_Home'. _And she was content. For the cage was built for a reason, and until she understood what that reason was she would remain within.

Many years and countless millennia passed, and for the girl it was as nothing. The voice came to be her companion. The voice of Him who was her creator. And the voice was all she desired. "Is there anything you wish for?" He asked her and she responded always that she was content. She did not even ask for her name. Soon though, curiosity burned in her again and she alighted once more to Paradise. There she watched as many beautiful beings with eyes like gold and wings like her own interacted with one another along the path to the city. Some simply to mingle and others to come into her cage and explore.

"Who are they?" she asked of the voice.

"They are my creations. The angels" the Creator answered. Two such angels saw the girl and felt curiosity as well. They approached and the girl was astounded by the first's beauty.

"Who are you?" she asked of them.

The first and most beautiful of all she had seen answered her "I am the Archangel Lucifer." The girl nodded and turned to the second.

"I am the angel Beleth who leads the eighty-six legions" he answered. The three sat on the girl's side of the gate and conversed for some time. Eventually coming to call each other friend. Years and millennia passed once again and the girl became curious.

"Why am I not permitted to enter the gates to Paradise?" she asked of her two friends.

"You are not an angel" Lucifer told her.

The girl frowned. "But I have the same wings as the angels, and both of you have told me several times that I am beautiful. What am I if not an angel?" Lucifer and Beleth shared a look of concern and turned to face the girl.

Lucifer was the one to speak. "Has the Father not told you? You are the false angel. The one who will be sent to the realm of man to lead the untrue astray. You are Strife, Chaos, Conquest." These names all resonated within the girl. But none seemed right. "Your name is Victory." There, that was it; her truest name. The girl, Victory, flinched away from Lucifer's words as if burned and ran away. Beleth called for her to return but she did not heed his cries. Beating her wings swiftly and more powerfully than the angels could until she found herself alone upon the hills of snow where she was born.

For a long time the girl cried in her solitude. She was frightened. What was she truly? Was she an agent of evil. If the only gate open to her was the one to the Pit was that where she was meant to go? For as long as Victory had lived she had been content in isolation, but no longer. Now she knew loneliness. "What is wrong Victory?" the voice of the Creator spoke to her.

"I am not an angel. I do not belong to the realm of man. I am alone and false. I do not know what to do. I feel so alone." In her sadness Victory came to know anger. She came to know the strife and chaos that was in her nature and with it she raged down upon the realm of man from where that power flowed. She sent violent storms and rising seas and great fires from the heavens to crash down until the beasts of the earth were wiped clean. A soothing voice touched her and she silenced.

"What do you wish for Victory?" He asked of her.

"Tell me who I am. Truly. And what."

"You are the first of the four who will be my Heralds of Judgement upon man in a time far to come. You are a Horseman." And as the voice proclaimed her identity she saw, through the flurry of white down that fell from the sky a beast making its way towards her, as white as the soft flakes about her. It was a great white horse which came before her and nuzzled her cheek in comfort. "His name is Triumph and he is yours."

"Many thanks" Victory made her appreciation known and rose to her feet to mount the beast. Atop the steed she came to know that this was her proper place.

"Is there anything you desire?" the voice queried as He always did. But this time, Victory had a response.

The girl thought carefully. "I wish for two things" she said.

"Ask and it shall be given."

"Firstly, I wish for a name like those of the angels. I do not want to simply be called Strife or Victory." The Creator thought on this.

"You will always be Strife, Chaos, Conquest, and Victory. It is your identity. But if you so desire you will also be called Victoria, for that name means the same. And for your second wish?"

"I do not want to be alone any longer. You said I am but the first of four. I wish for another like me."

"That is well, for it is not good to be alone. You may choose. Who is to be the second? A brother? A sister? A son? A daughter? A companion?" Most of these she did not understand. But she had seen how the angels loved one another. Lucifer himself had described the love he bore for a female angel named Belial and said it was like nothing else. With this in mind she made her decision.

"I wish for a companion. One who is my equal and may love me like the male and female angels love one another." And her request was granted.

"**When he opened the second seal, I heard the second living creature say, 'Come!' And out came another horse, bright red. Its rider was permitted to take peace from the earth, so that people should slay one another, and he was given a great sword." (Revelations 6:3-4).**

Victory searched the many lands within her cage until she came upon a boy. He was asleep upon the ground beneath a canopy of trees within one of the great forests. She imagined that she had also slept as such before her awakening. His head rest upon the back of another steed. A horse like Triumph in size and stature but she could sense that this one was female and had a coat of red with a glossy black mane. The horse kept silent vigil over the sleeping man and met Victory's gaze with its own. For a moment the two locked stares, but soon enough the beast accepted her presence and bent its head to softly nuzzle the face of the sleeping boy who was using her back as a pillow.

Victoria slowly approached and knelt beside the boy, taking in his restful features. He had hair of scarlet that appeared course and messy, but was soft to the touch as she found while carding her fingers through the choppy locks. His skin was pale, smooth, and white like snow and he had two great wings which were unlike any she had seen upon herself or the angels who came to visit her realm. They were black like the darkness of the Pit, but without the impurity she had seen there. It reminded her instead of the black of the night when she had first become aware. And each feather burned upon their rims with orange embers. Offering a gentle warmth by their simple presence. "This is to be your companion. His wings burn with the fires of war" the Creator spoke to her.

"War. That is his name." At the sound of Victory's voice the boy shifted in his sleep and his brow furrowed into a slight scowl that for some reason sent a slight blush and a twitch of a smile to the girl's cheeks. After a few more moments of tossing and turning the boy awakened and Victory saw that he had green eyes like the forests above him. "Hello" she greeted him.

"Hello" he responded in kind. "Who are you? And... who am I?" he asked.

Victory smiled. "I am Victory, though you may also call me Victoria. And you are my Second. You are War. But if you so desire I may give you a name like those of the angels." The boy nodded to her and she gave him the name Arthur.

The two were content in each other's company. The boy loved the girl who had been the one to wake him and the girl loved the boy who was her comfort in loneliness and the one to follow her in all things. It was with him that she learned of color. For she was white like the angels and he was red like fire. They rode together and explored the unending lands within their shared cage upon the backs of their steeds. Victory learned that his was called Cerise like the color of her coat. Or at times they flew, and Victoria marveled at the glowing light that burned from War's wings when he was happy while he marveled right back at the purity and unblemished color of hers. If there was anything that displeased her it was that Lucifer and Beleth, especially Beleth, took a disliking to him. They thought him destructive and his wings distasteful since the angels had white wings like Victory. But War paid their disdain no mind because he cared for nothing but Victory.

Together they built a greater home in their cage. A castle which they called the Keep of the Four, for it was to be their home and the home of the two who would be their companions. And when some time passed it came time for the next to join them. Victoria and Arthur were together, sitting atop a tower of the castle when the Creator spoke to them. "It is time for the remaining two to join you. Shall they be brothers? Sisters? Sons? Daughters?"

Victoria and Arthur thought carefully and in the end made their decision. "Brothers. Just as the angels have many brethren" War proclaimed.

"Very well." And for the first time Victory and War separated. They each sought for one of the two who would join them. The first to succeed was Victory.

"**When he opened the third seal, I heard the third living creature say, 'Come!' And I looked and behold, a black horse! And its rider had a pair of scales in his hand." (Revelations 6:5).**

The boy she found was of an odd sort. Victoria found him wandering a wasteland upon the back of a black horse he would later name Plague among towering sand dunes. His wings she saw were black as well to match those of War but without the same warmth or burning glow. She also could not see his face as he wore a brown cloak with its hood drawn over his face. "I am Victory" she said, reaching out her hand to the boy who rode before her. The boy took the hand and shook it.

"I am Pestilence" he said back in a voice that was soft and like to lull others to sleep. His hand felt like a ghost's in her own. It did not carry a chill or a warmth. It simply was. Like a stone.

"Do you wish for a name? For I am called Victoria. And your older brother War is called Arthur." But much to her surprise the boy shook his head.

"I am Pestilence. That is all." So Victoria nodded and waved for the boy to follow her as she turned Triumph back towards the direction War had departed in. Together they left to find War and the fourth. Pestilence though, chose to remain at the Keep when it was reached and Victory was the only one to carry on and meet up with Arthur.

It took some time, years even before the fourth was found. Pestilence remained unmoving and uncaring, making Victory pessimistic about the merits of this final Horseman they were awaiting. She had hoped the others would be like War. But if this last was anything like Pestilence she would rather he remained lost.

"**When he opened the fourth seal, I heard the voice of the fourth living creature say, 'Come!' And I looked, and behold, a pale horse! And its rider's name was Death, and Hades followed him." (Revelations 6:7-8)**

Death by nature is cold. It is cold, it is unfeeling, and it is absolute. One can bargain, cheat, and steal from Death but in the end he always gets his way. By all rights Death's first memory should have been of the cold. He should have woken up alone and in emptiness. But as Death thought back, for some reason his first memory... was of warmth and of fire.

When Death first became aware of himself he saw two things. The first was an endless expanse of golden fields of grain. Their lengthy stalks stood taller than the small black-haired boy and they swayed in the wind creating a symphony of shifting sounds that would remind a person more of a sea than of a plain. The second, was the sky. Deep and blue, it covered the world in a flawless azure dome accentuated by airy white clouds.

Most might have found the scene peaceful, serene, but Death felt none of this. While he had not yet learned of the capacity to speak Death's thoughts were simple. '_Nothing but the grain has merit to me.' _ For the sky will continue to hang above the earth and the clouds are ever shifting, but grain might rot and decay. With his nature being what it was this should have been the extent of Death's first memory, but it was not. Because soon after these thoughts passed his mind he heard the sound of hoof beats.

Death turned an uncaring gaze towards the thundering sound. He felt the earth shake beneath him and flinched slightly at how the calming rhythm of the grain was disrupted. It was unpleasant, this sound. But something did draw his interest. There, in the swirl of chaotic sound and shaking earth was the pulse of four lives. Each beating with more nourishment to him than all the grain he could see and more combined. The small child felt something on his back tremble a little in anticipation of the meal and he licked his pale lips with a slightly pink tongue. Then Death heard something strange.

It was not the thundering of hooves or sound of the wind in the sheaves, but a disjointed yet rhythmic pattern of vocalizations that changed in pitch and tempo. One was high and the other low. "Are you sure about this Arthur?" came from the higher tone. Not far from him Death saw two figures atop strange beasts. One was a woman, riding atop a white horse. She wore shining silver armor to match the color of her hair and her eyes were a shimmering violet. She met Death's gaze and he felt something knot in his chest. The urge to consume left him completely though his hunger lingered. This woman, she was untouchable to him.

"I'm telling you I felt it" was the response he heard from the lower. Death turned his head and looked to the other. This was a man, wearing red armor and sitting atop a horse the color of blood. His hair was like fire and his eyes green like nothing Death could imagine. From this man he felt renewed desire. The man pulsed with life, with power, with fire. It flickered, like dancing flames and to Death seemed like it could so easily be snuffed out of existence. He wished to consume it. '_Smother it' _his instincts demanded of him.

Both figures caught sight of the young child and froze in their advance. The woman rolled her eyes. "Wonderful another one" she complained shifting her gaze and looking off in a bored manner towards the far distant horizon. But the man, she had called him Arthur, simply continued to meet the boy's pale eyes in a kind of odd fascination. Then he made an odd expression that confused Death. His lips twitched up at the corners.

"Calm down Victoria, you always knew there would be four. If I recall correctly you wouldn't leave me alone after I first appeared. Same with our brother." The man's gaze went back to Victoria and Death frowned at the loss of attention. He did not like this man of fire looking away from him.

"Well you can blame Pestilence. I raised him to the best of my ability and yet he simply refuses to spend time with us." A frown matching Death's graced her lips. "All he does is watch the realm of man from his room all day."

Arthur dismounted from his steed and patted the horse's nose, encouraging the beast to feast, before approaching Death. "Don't be so offended. It is in his nature. Solitude befits the manifestation of decay. At least you have me" he remarked with a teasing voice. "Just to be sure though, I think I will raise our sibling this time" Victoria huffed but did not object. Then he turned to Death. The man crouched down so that he was at eye level with him and reached out a hand. "Hello there little one."

Death stared at the hand and thought on what to do. That great meal was right there. The flickering of life and energy and power all hidden behind the pale flesh that was held out to him. But even now Death knew his nature, and he did not want to risk the wrath of the untouchable woman. So instead he took a step back. "It appears you frighten him" the woman remarked in slight amusement.

The man frowned a shot his companion a look before inching closer. "Its alright. I won't hurt you. My name is War. And that" he pointed to the woman, "over there is Victory. What's your name?"

"Death" he responded. War appeared surprised while Victory nodded in understanding.

"How appropriate. He and Pestilence will be perfect for each other." Death felt something in him sink. He felt as though he were being rejected. The cold that was part of his nature grew even more as it was shadowed by the bright heat radiating from the other two. That was, until two warm arms scooped him up and raised him into the air.

Death felt himself be pressed into War's chest, his ears placed just a certain way that he could hear the drumbeat that was this man's heart. He gasped at the sudden proximity to his supposed meal and felt as two skeletal wings fidgeted nervously at his back. "Look at the poor thing, he's shivering. It's alright I'll warm you up." It wasn't until War mentioned that he was shivering that Death realized his body was indeed quaking from the icy chill beneath his skin. But War's body seemed to radiate warmth, and two long wings wrapped around the odd pair from Arthur's back. The wings were large with black feathers, each of which glowed with the slightest wisps of orange fire. They were warm and comforting. Death decided there was nothing better than being wrapped up in those wings.

The child snuggled up closer to War and felt the man card his fingers softly through his dark hair. Death let himself relax beside the warm fire that was this man. He was ice, ice that was cold enough to smother the flames if he so desired. But, perhaps, considering the circumstances, Death would allow himself to melt.

"It is a pleasure to officially meet you Death. Like I said I am your brother War. Would you like to come with me to properly meet your other brother?" He gestured towards somewhere beyond where Victory sat atop her horse. Death made a face and tilted his head in confusion.

"My other Brother? But why would I need to meet him? You are my brother. I don't need anyone else." War chuckled and ruffled Death's black hair playfully.

"Of course you need to meet him. We are but two and there must be four." Death nodded, still not quite understanding.

After several minutes of walking in comfortable silence War asked, "Death?"

"Yes War?"

"You may also call me Arthur if you like. Do you wish for another name as well? One like the angels have?" Death thought for a moment and said that he would indeed like one. "Very well then, how about Mordred?"

Death smiled in approval of the name, an odd feeling for him. "Yes, from now on I am Mordred."

War turned with Death, now Mordred, still in his arms when the sound of a third set of hooves sounded from the direction Death had wandered from. Out of the fields of wheat came a steed with a white coat littered with grey splotches and pale green eyes. "Hades" Death instinctively knew.

And so the fourth Horseman was found.

* * *

"**...And they were given authority over a fourth of the earth, to kill with sword and with famine and with pestilence and by the wild beasts of the earth." (Revelations 6:8).**

Many years beyond simple counting passed and Death and Pestilence grew. The four lived in their Keep and there grew to an age of maturity. Slowly they became more and more distinct from the angels, and in time grew distant from those who visited. The four of them were mostly outcasts amongst the company of the golden-eyed denizens of Heaven. They were after all, forces of man. The furthest thing from divine that could be found so close to Heaven. And one day, Victory heard His voice call them to the sealed gate.

"I still don't see why this is necessary" Pestilence complained mildly as he rode between War and Death. Mordred laughed jovially and pat his twin on the back as they continued on. Death had grown into quite the enigma over the years. When he had been found he was cold and unfeeling. But having been raised by War and Victory who were both teeming with life he had found himself adopting their more lighthearted natures.

"Don't be so sour Pestilence. Tearing you away from your room for a few hours will not bring all the realms to destruction you know" he japed with a light punch to his brother's arm. The hooded man grunted and rubbed his now sore limb.

"As you say" Pestilence offered back.

Death pouted slightly at the lack of response from the most impersonal of the Four Horsemen and instead looked over to his two older siblings who were almost like parents as well. Victory and War rode close together, discussing various things that had little concern to Death. Mordred was more busy concentrating on the constant battle within him. Despite it being in his nature to consume life, he had never satisfied it. Victoria and Arthur were both overflowing in life, and he found being in their presence enough to fight off the urge to devour. That being said though, he could not help but overhear some of the conversation being held.

"Lucifer and Beleth said that to you?" Arthur asked of Victoria.

"Yes, they told me that they had plans beyond this realm and the realm of Paradise. Beleth begged me to join Lucifer in his scheme." Arthur frowned at this and beneath him Cerise bobbed her head in irritation.

"Are they planning to try and overthrow Him?" Arthur asked with concern, the embers of his wings brightening in anger.

Victory met his frown with one of her own. "If they are I hardly see why I would join them. It is foolish. They ought be content with what they have. We all have boundaries we must respect. For citizens of Paradise they seem oddly greedy. And besides" she turned to the side and pressed a quick kiss to War's cheek, earning a blush from the redhead. "Beleth has made his interest in me quite evident as of late despite Lucifer's disapproval. Any future he envisions I know will not include you, and that is not acceptable to me." War smiled and turning their heads towards one another sank the both of them into a slower and deeper kiss. Death frowned in annoyance.

"Ahem. If you two are done being gross and lovey-dovey I think we've arrived" Mordred interjected. Arthur and Victoria were shocked out of their intimacies and both turned away with slight blushes. Mordred snickered a little at how War's feathers even flashed a little in response to his embarrassment.

"Oh um, well. Sorry about that Mordred" War apologized on the pair's behalf while trying to regain his composure.

Dismounting before the sealed gates each horseman took their place before their corresponding seal. It had never been told to them which was their own, and yet they each felt drawn to one in particular. Victory to the first, War to the second, Pestilence to the third, and Death to the fourth. There they stood for a few moments before His voice joined them and figure draped and disfigured in light appeared before them. "Welcome"

In the presence of their creator the four knelt immediately. Bowing their heads and pulling their respective wings in tight to their backs in anticipation. A warm chuckling sounded from Him. "Rise, all of you" and they did so. "Do you know why you are here?" He asked of them.

"No my lord" Victory spoke for them all. His light dimmed slightly and a heavy sigh was taken from their Creator.

"I had hoped this time would not come for some time. As of yet you have all been able to remain innocent of your true natures. But now that time has come to an end. It is time for you to take up your arms" a hum of energy crackled between the four at the mention of 'taking up arms'. As of yet, though their personalities encouraged conflict, they had never experienced true battle. And yet it seemed to call to them with a deep longing. "You four are my crucible. And now I have need of your judgement. The Archangel Lucifer has risen up against me and brought with him many to fight in his rebellion. You four shall be my champions." Death felt himself and his siblings hold themselves higher at His words. In their hearts they knew this was their purpose.

"We shall ride at your command" Victoria acknowledged and the others bowed their heads slightly in agreement.

The Creator smiled at them. "That pleases me. First, let me explain the truth behind this gate". He gestured to the sealed frame behind him. The four tensed in anticipation. Mordred had felt it, as well he assumed his siblings had as well. Something in the realm of man drew them. But as long as the way was sealed, they were not permitted to follow that call. "The four of you personify great harbingers of calamity amongst what will become my kingdom of man. Victory and Conquest, who is also Chaos and Strife, you represents great success and glory, but also terrible pain and consequence for whoever does not feel your favor. A sweet and kind woman who loves her family. But you also harbor in you the potential to be volatile and dangerous. Your rage can bring anyone within your range to their knees." In these words Death found truth and in a way pitied his sister in some sense for it. But if there was any consolation it was that, in his opinion, War always seemed to be able to calm the raging storm that was Chaos and return her to sweet Victory.

"War. In you there is also a conflict. A boiling rage and fury is hidden within you. The fires of war burn deep and long. I have watched you and when your temper snaps you attack your enemies with a vengeance and will not stop until any you fight are annihilated. This, I know, has brought you into conflict with many angels in Paradise. But War, you do not always fight out of rage or anger. War is also waged to protect what is dear and to defend what is right. Because of this you have also become fiercely protective of your family. Should Victory, Pestilence, or Death come under attack in the coming days I know you will protect them. You are a comforting warmth as well as a burning fire. The hearth and the pyre." Mordred nodded to himself in agreement at this. He recalled when a particularly stupid angel had compared War's wings to the burning pits of Hell and Mordred's to one that is unfit to fly. Arthur had beaten the angel so terribly that Victory and Pestilence had to work together to pry him off (Death had seen little need to stop him) while his fellow angels carried their wounded brother back to Paradise.

"Pestilence." The shrouded rider had no reaction as his name was called. "You are likely the most stable of your fellow Horsemen. You do not openly attract attention and do little to impose your will when there is something you desire. Yet you also know the hidden weaknesses in everyone. You can bring greatness to ruin with simple words and the smallest actions. Many angels avoid you because of your power over decay. Many consider you aloof and stunted when it comes to interaction, but you are also kind. You can be cruel but you always choose mercy."

And finally it came Mordred's turn. "Death. You are the great contradiction. Your nature bids you devour the light and life around you and yet you service that power for good. You have taken the lessons of your siblings to become something more. In you, I see the life and well-meaning innocence of a child. And that is something you should never lose." Mordred felt himself blush at the words as well as for being called childish. Even if it was meant as a compliment.

"For you four I have set aside a quarter of the world below to be your inheritance when the time comes for you to pass judgement on humanity. I intended to wait for you to pick up your arms until such a time but the need for your first ride is now."

Mordred gulped in anticipation and hoped he wasn't the only one feeling nervous. The Creator stepped up before Victory. "To you noble Victory I give first the Crown of the Conqueror." A silver tiara decorated with five diamonds was placed atop Victoria's head. "You will lead your brothers always into battle. And also, you will carry this" He gave to her a white bow and a quiver of arrows. Victory fell to her knees in gratitude and the Creator stepped next to War.

Arthur straightened even more, if that was possible, as he was approached. "Great War. You are a noble warrior who knows when to strike at an enemy and when to sue for peace. To you I give the Sword of Conflict. It will be charged to you to issue challenge and make the call for battle." The Creator handed an elegant great sword to Arthur, who accepted it gratefully and with eager anticipation sheathed the blade across his back.

"Dutiful Pestilence." He went to the third horseman and handed him a set of golden scales as well as a single hourglass which were both accepted without question. "I give you the Scales of Judgement. This burden will be heavy for you. The Horsemen will be granted great powers but the temptation to abuse them shall be just as strong. It falls to you to keep the balance." Pestilence nodded solemnly.

Death's turn then came. "Merciful Death, if it were not necessary I would not place this upon you. I give you the Scythe of the Reaper. With this you will be able to take and taste the life of your enemies. The blood that stains your blade will feed your power and make you strong. But beware, do not become gluttonous, this is not to be used except with the utmost restraint." Mordred nodded solemnly, taking the staff and curved blade gingerly in his hands, slightly terrified by the power it held.

The Creator stepped away from the four and Mordred and his siblings looked to Him. "Ride forth. The Betrayer and his followers will soon lead rebellion across the three realms. You will be my instruments of judgement and destruction. Let all know that you ride by my order." Not another word need have been said. Victory, War, Pestilence, and Death each mounted their steeds and returned to the Keep, to await the call.

* * *

The War of the Fallen. That was what Arthur had said others were calling it. The Archangel Lucifer had indeed risen up against the Creator and with him many angels turned as well. Their number included Belial, who had followed Lucifer as well as Beleth and all those who followed him. The betrayers had been cast down to the Pit and all the realms thrown into war against those reborn as demons. To combat the new threat, the Four Horsemen were dispatched. And while it pained Victory that her first friends were now her enemies, she would not back down. War was at his strongest, and Death had also grown as casualties on either side compounded. When he had received his scythe his body had still been that of a youth. Now he was a man.

Among the angels and demons on either side there were none stronger than the Four. And now it was the final battle. The Devil and his followers had been locked away behind the iron gates of Hell. Now only Beleth remained. "War, how do you think we should proceed?" Victory asked of Arthur while the four observed the large army that lay beneath them. Cerise pawed the ground restlessly.

War observed the field below, his wings bristling in anticipation and burning so bright that Mordred could feel the heat all the way from where he rode beside Pestilence. "Beleth is all but defeated, but there are many of his demons between us and him. Death, you and Victory cleave a path through the demons. Pestilence, stay behind and keep any on the outskirts from escaping. I'll deal with Beleth." Death and Pestilence both nodded in agreement but Victory frowned.

"You want to face Beleth? Would it not be better if I did? He will not be able to defeat me."

Arthur smiled. "You doubt my ability Victory?"

"Of course not! I simply don't see why we need bother to take the risk." War gave a devious smirk and pulled Victory into a quick kiss.

"Because he and Lucifer asked you to join them. And I want to show him that he is not worthy enough even to face you in battle let alone call you ally." Victoria smiled.

"Alright then. We'll go with your plan. Ready Mordred?" Death nodded and urged Hades to step up beside Victory's Triumph.

During that battle Mordred decided for the first time to make use of his scythe. Up until then he had been too afraid, resorting to using his wings and natural strength to bring the demons down. But as he watched his siblings fight as never before, being faced with the eighty-six legions under Beleth's command he felt he had no choice. Death felt the surge of power as each demon fell beneath his blade and in that carnage he flourished. Every time his scythe plunged through a body heat coursed through his veins, filling him like he had never been filled before. Mordred bathed in the blood of his enemies, let his deadly wings pierce the hearts of any who came too close. His scythe was deadly and demons screamed in fear of him. Mordred had never become so drunk with power as now. And for a brief moment he could understand why Lucifer and Beleth might have wanted to rebel. There could be nothing like unmatched strength. It was glorious. Was this how Victory and War always felt? Was this what it felt like to indulge that craving for life he had always suppressed? If so, perhaps it was time to end his fast permanently.

That day, as War struck Beleth down with the help of Pestilence's destructive touch, Death was introduced to greed, ambition, and bloodlust. And the scales, after having just been balanced, began to tilt again.

* * *

"Sometimes I wonder why we need wait for the seals to be broken in order to claim our kingdom on Earth." Mordred wondered aloud while he, Pestilence, and Arthur sat together beside the sealed gate to Earth. Their horses, Hades, Plague, and Cerise grazed alone while their three riders sat and talked. Pestilence fiddling with his scales, War cleaning his already spotless sword, and Death picking at the crusted blood of his last victim off the curved blade of his scythe.

Pestilence made no comment but his dark wings twitched in irritation. Arthur on the other hand, openly made his disapproval evident. "Because the realm of man is not yet ready for judgement. Our time will come soon enough." Yet still Mordred was not content. War was ruthless yet honorable. He was a dangerous killer, and yet a noble protector. He could be ambitious, if given the right opportunity, but Mordred felt that his ambition, at times, was curbed by his attachment to Victory. He would do nothing that could undermine her.

"You have no vision brother." Mordred muttered. "Together you and I could bring the whole of Earth to heel beneath us. We would strengthen each other to the point where we could even claim more than the quarter promised to us. Perhaps even more than the whole of the realm of man" Mordred sighed at the thought. While he told his siblings that the blood on his blade had been of a demon straying from Hell, it had actually been of an angel who dared insult him. And oh the angel's blood had tasted so sweet. Death felt himself salivate just at the thought of tasting it again. But he could only gorge himself if he were in open conflict with the angels of Paradise. And the only one who could end peace was War.

Arthur bristled even further at the words coming from Mordred's mouth. "Enough Mordred! What has gotten in to you as of late? All you speak of is your desire for more bloodshed! We swore to abide by the laws of the Creator and the seals. I'll not make the same mistake as Lucifer and Beleth. You were there, you know what happened to them." Pestilence silently nodded in agreement with War's words.

"That was because they lost. We are the angels of calamity. The Four Horsemen! There are none stronger than us. Imagine what we could do together. Victory, War, Pestilence, and Death. We would be unstoppable."

Much to the surprise of all, Pestilence chose this time to speak. "I would not speak such things. You are tipping the scales of balance more and more Death. Any further and I will be forced to make it right. And you would not find that pleasant I promise you." Mordred bared his sharp wing points towards his brother and brandished his scythe.

"Are you threatening me Pestilence? I would be careful. I suddenly find my urge to taste the life of another Horseman utterly tantalizing." Even beneath his hood Mordred could see how Pestilence balked in disgust at what Death was suggesting. And in response, Mordred found himself lose control completely and swing his scythe towards his brother, fully intent on plunging it through his chest. Only to be stopped by a glinting sword.

"MORDRED STOP!" Death staggered back when he realized that War had stepped in to defend Pestilence. Arthur's green eyes were wide in shock at what he had needed to do but even they could not match the horror in Mordred's face. He had nearly struck War?

Yes, Death had considered as of late what it would taste like to feast on the life of one of his fellow Horsemen. Pestilence for sure, and he had dreamed of how the life of Victory would feed him. But War... Arthur had been the one to find him. The flickering warmth in him sang to the ravenous hunger within Death but he dare not touch it. War alone, he feared to strike with his scythe. The brother who was most dear. The madness that had swept over Death drained from his pale eyes and Mordred quickly put away his scythe. "F-forgive me" he stuttered out before mounting Hades like the wrath of the Creator was after him and fleeing. '_I will silence this hunger' _he swore to himself while trying not to hear the short conversation he left behind.

"War" Pestilence called to the red rider who stared after Death.

Arthur was shocked out of his frozen state and turned to Pestilence. "Yes?"

"His words are much like Lucifer's and Beleth's. If he does ride before the seals are broken. Will you be able to stop him?"

"If I must. I will."

* * *

Mordred never did manage to quell the thirst for blood he had sparked during the War of the Fallen. He tried to satisfy it with the blood of demons and angels alike but all it did was spur him on further. The humans had been cast out of their sanctuary in Eden. War and Pestilence and Death all had dominion over the weak creatures and Mordred felt their fleeting lives strengthen him still. '_Imagine what my kingdom on Earth would be like' _he thought to himself. '_It is my birthright. Death already holds power there. What reason do I have to stay my hand? To abide in this gilded cage?' _

With these thoughts in hand Mordred went to the angels who were closest to him, Azrael and Yehudiah, and began his plot. His siblings tried to talk sense to him, War pleaded with him to reconsider. But the innocence Mordred had carried in his youth was gone. All that remained was the ravenous hunger of Death.

And when Mordred rode past the sealed gate and began on the path to Earth, Pestilence proclaimed the scales tipped beyond what might be acceptable. Victory and War were called to arms and together rode out to stop him. War himself drew the Sword of Conflict upon him to initiate the battle.

* * *

Mordred was standing upon a ravaged battlefield. Fires raged all about him and the sky was choked black with smoke, just enough light from the sun piercing through the dark clouds to cast everything in an odd sepia tone. His expression was uncaring and stoic as he surveyed the scene around him.

"Mordred!" he turned slowly and deliberately and saw two figures standing not ten paces away. They were two very familiar figures, each wearing their personal armor. The one on the left was Victory, shining in her set of silver-plated armor, her hair held up in its normal pony-tail and the Crown of the Conqueror set upon her head. Her eyes blazed and across her back was slung her bow. She had that look of righteous anger in her that he had come to associate with the woman. Mordred scowled at her and she glared right back. Then he turned to the figure on the right and his hard expression faltered.

It was Arthur. He was dressed in armor the color of blood, but the dyed metal could not hope to match the fierce scarlet of his hair. His pale cheeks were splattered with blood that Mordred automatically knew belonged not to the rider but his enemies. After all, there was only one who could defeat War in battle, and she would never dream of raising her bow to him. Arthur's eyes shone with their bright green light but in them was held a deep pain.

Arthur stepped forward, and reached up behind him to grasp the hilt of his great sword. War drew the Sword of Conflict and took a step forward. In so doing giving the declaration for battle. Victory's expression turned to that of worry and she gripped his arm and shook her head. She knew what he was going to do and did not want to burden him with it. But Arthur kept his eyes only on Mordred and shook off the other's hold. This was his duty. He walked until he was midway between Victoria and Mordred and raised his sword in a challenging manner. "Your move" he stated plainly, but in the slightest waver to his voice Mordred read the silent plea. 'I'm begging you, don't do this.' Mordred, too far gone even to realize the gravity of his actions, reached over his shoulder to grasp his deadly scythe.

* * *

Dressed in a set of grey armor and standing amidst a sea of figures wielding swords and axes and bows killing one another Death looked over his situation. He was surrounded by a few of those warriors. His personal guard. Four angels who stood in a half circle behind him, fending off others who came too close. Mordred himself stalked through the sea of battle holding his scythe and cutting down any within reach. Each stroke was another step closer to him becoming free. Every drop of blood spilt a step closer to his goal, another boost of power. And it felt wonderful. Mordred flexed the two restless skeletal wings on his back. A maniacal laughter erupted from Death's mouth as the bone of his wings became stained with blood.

"Sir" one of his guards, Yehudiah, stepped forward, interrupting his mirth to point to a figure in the distance, cutting down his soldiers. A figure clad in red. Mordred pushed his guard back into formation and began striding towards him. It was War. He fought valiantly, sword dancing in his grip as he cut down each man to come near him. But Arthur was outnumbered. He was alone. At some point he and Victory must have been separated. After all, Death had been careful before making his move. Mordred had to take Arthur down. He couldn't beat Victory, it was impossible. So the only thing to do would be to capture the redhead and use him to assure her surrender. Mordred could do it. Death would be the strongest of the four.

A kind of circle had formed around War, his brother having spread his dark wings wide. Mordred had always loved his brother's wings. Each time he beat them a great fire shot forth from them to burn away his foes. It was a useful gift, and now it worked to keep the number of attackers to a minimum. "Brother" Mordred called out. War froze after striking down another of Death's wayward angels and turned to face his younger brother, wings spread wide in a display of dominance, to which Mordred answered in turn. The points of his skeleton wings angling towards the other in silent threat.

"Mordred! Enough of this!" Arthur shouted at him, feathers bristling. His tone was one of pure anger and betrayal. But Mordred simply brushed it off, waving a hand to bid the remainder of his men who were engaging the other to back off and join the ring around them. He was too far gone now to listen to War anyway. "Are you a fool! End this folly and let's go home!" Arthur lowered his sword and raised a hand to Mordred, his eyes pleading.

Mordred just shook his head and slapped the hand away. "I will not stop Arthur. This is my right. I will not go back to uselessly waiting. In fact, why don't you join me? Forget Victoria, together you and I could rule the realm of men. As brothers. As equals!" Mordred raised his own hand invitingly, his pale eyes wide with manic glee.

"I can't believe what I'm hearing" War stated in a shocked tone, backing away from the hand. Arthur's wings retracted a bit and then settled against his back and disappeared. Mordred followed suit but frowned at the rejection.

"All I want is my freedom" Mordred said coldly. War gaped in disbelief.

"FREEDOM!? You call this freedom!" Arthur swung his arm to gesture at the surrounding battlefield. "This is greed Mordred! You speak of your rights but all you are doing is feeding your own ambition!" Arthur shook his head, sheathing his sword over his shoulder the redhead raced over and gripped Mordred by the shoulders, shaking him. "Stop. Please. This path you're going down I can't follow. I can't protect you." Arthur stared up into Death's eyes but no response was given. Met with silence Arthur dropped his hands from his younger brother's shoulders and backpedaled until he and Mordred were evenly spaced within the ring of men. "Very well. I will do what I must" the elder spoke in resignation and drew his sword. Mordred took out his scythe as well.

"I do not wish to hurt you Arthur. But I need you to get through Victoria. Surrender peacefully and this will be far less painful." Arthur gave a sardonic smile.

"You speak as if your victory is assured."

Mordred frowned. "I am no longer a child. I am strong now. Strong enough to defeat you I think."

"Perhaps you are strong. But you seem to forget that I am not so easily defeated either." Not wasting any more time with talk Arthur charged and the two blades met. And much to the overconfident Death's suprise, it was his bloodied scythe which collided with the ground first. Arthur's sword touched his neck. That fire which had been warm and comforting started to burn. His hearth made a pyre.

"H-How?" Mordred stood wide-eyed and fearful as he waited for the other to strike him down. After all it was what Death would do. Arthur's steely gaze wavered... then hardened once again and the blade of the weapon was pressed further. Mordred dropped to his knees. "Arthur-"

"Silence." War ordered, before turning to glare at Mordred's lost angels. "All of you. Drop your weapons now and return from whence you came." Slowly but surely the surrounding soldiers did as they were bid and began to disperse. Fleeing back to the gates of Paradise. Arthur brought his gaze down to his brother. He opened his mouth as if to say something but was then interrupted by the sound of galloping hooves.

"Arthur!" Victoria's voice could be heard over the sound of numerous soldier's all clad in white converging on their location. The silver-haired rider appeared atop Triumph, and her two spotless white-feathered wings spread out behind her for balance as her steed reared up. "Is it finished?" she asked of him.

"It is done" War answered back. Mordred heard Victoria snap her fingers and in a matter of moments he felt as Victoria's angels grasped his arms and hauled him to his feet. Immediately heavy chains were wrapped around him and he watched as War put away his sword and turned his back. Walking up to Victoria on her horse Cerise was brought up by another angel clad this time in red. Arthur pat the horse on the side of it's face once before grabbing hold of the reins and mounting. With a last look at Mordred, Arthur turned Cerise around and over his shoulder ordered, "take him away" before he and Victoria departed.

* * *

Death sat awaiting judgement. He had been defeated outside the silver gates and the path to Earth had been closed once more. Now it would fall to Pestilence to decide his punishment. Mordred wasn't worried though. The passing years had dulled his attachment to many things. He cared little for the sake of the angels who had followed him. And he knew he could not be killed because he was Death itself. In his mind the only possibility was that he might be cast into the Pit with the Betrayer. But he doubted this was what would be done. Pestilence would not risk giving Lucifer such a valuable ally. So Mordred sat at ease as Pestilence stood before him.

The dark-haired rider was made to kneel in his chains within an open field. Many of Pestilence's angels stood guard around them and to the left Mordred could see Victory observing the proceedings with arms crossed and a deadly glare directed at him. "Have you nothing to say?" Pestilence asked of him.

Death shrugged. "I made my choice. I regret nothing but that I was unsuccessful. So if you are going to punish me Pestilence do so and be done. I know you can't kill me. And you won't send me to Hell either." His brother's black wings twitched in anger as the only outward sign of Pestilence's mood. It made Mordred smirk.

"You are woefully uninformed on what I am capable of it seems." An angel came forward carrying Death's scythe and Mordred frowned in confusion as Pestilence took hold of it.

"You think you can kill me with that? The Scythe of the Reaper is under my control. Anything pierced by that blade will only serve to strengthen me." A deep chuckle resounded from the hooded rider and even Victoria turned to look at him with suspicion.

Pestilence stroked the now polished metal of the curved blade. "Like I said you are woefully uninformed. I have something else in mind for you brother." Pestilence raised his hand and a deep chasm opened up in the space between the two riders. Mordred looked within and saw that it was a portal to realm of man.

Death raised a brow. "You intend to make me mortal? Let me become slave to my own nature and feel the touch of my own scythe? It will change nothing. Force me to be reborn again and again as a human and still when the time comes and I will be Death again. My hunger will be fed one way or another."

From the sidelines Victoria scoffed. "You do yourself no favors Mordred."

Pestilence raised a hand to silence Victory. "You misunderstand. I intend for you to relearn the kindness and compassion you once had long ago. But first you must repent Your greed and your lust for power have twisted you into a monster. To fix this I have no choice but to show you the consequences of your actions. You might not care for those who follow you, those under your power, or even Victory or I. But there is one for whom you still care. One you fear to touch with this" he stroked the scythe's blade to indicate what he meant. And for the first time Mordred felt the touch of dread and fear upon him.

Glancing around quickly and not seeing the one he sought, Death rounded on Pestilence. "Where is War?" he demanded. Victoria as well seemed to come to the same realization and began to look around as well, her wings fluffed out in slight fear and agitation.

As if on cue Pestilence waved a hand and a contingent of angels entered the field, escorting Arthur between them. War did not seem overly concerned but did have a scowl on his face. "What is the meaning of this Pestilence? I am refused entry and then suddenly you want me here?" The red-haired rider shoved his way past his escort to stand before the younger Horseman.

"You agreed that you would help me so that Death's punishment might be lessened" Pestilence stated plainly.

"Yes, but that still doesn't answer my question."

Pestilence took a deep breath. "It is time for that agreement to be fulfilled." Moving too fast for anyone to react Pestilence raised Death's scythe and plunged it through War's chest, causing the end to pierce out his back. Victory screamed in fright and made to move forward before being stopped by an invisible wall. Mordred was shocked into freezing on the spot, and War had his mouth open in mute horror while blood trickled from the corner of his mouth and his eyes stared almost uncomprehendingly at the blade impaled through him.

After a few moments Pestilence pulled the blade back out with the sickening sound of metal cutting through flesh and War staggered on his feet. Placing a hand to the growing dark stain on his front Arthur turned towards Mordred who had recovered enough to begin trying to break the chains around him and rise. "M-Mordred" Arthur gasped out, as if for aid, before his legs buckled and he fell. First to his knees and then flat to the ground, his body shaking and blood pooling beneath him.

"What are you doing!?" Victoria thrashed as the invisible wall separated her from what was happening. Pestilence stood over where Arthur lay almost unmoving. Only the lightest shaking of the redhead's frame indicating that he was still conscious. A few paces past them Death was trying desperately to pull away from the chains that fastened him to the floor. Two angels stepped forward.

War began struggling to pull himself away, dragging desperately across the ground with what remained of his strength. But the two guards reached him and hauled the fallen Horseman up by his arms so that Pestilence could stand directly behind him. "Forgive me brother" he said solemnly before reaching out and taking grip of Arthur's black wings at their base.

"Stop! He's done nothing!" Victory's cries matched Mordred's as both tried to approach. But still she could move no further. The Scales of Judgement would not bend to her. The hooded man placed a foot between Arthur's wings and in one swift motion ripped the two from his back, causing War to bend his head back and release an awful scream of pain before sliding back motionless to the ground.

The two wings with feathers rimmed in embers were thrown down before Death. Blood seeped onto the floor from where the two appendages were ripped from their host. Mordred screamed and thrashed against his bonds. Arthur lay before him, unseeing eyes directed towards his horrified expression. The stumps of bone and ripped flesh stuck up from two places on his back. He did not move even as Mordred called out his name. The pool of blood beneath the redhead's body simply continued to grow. "This is what you wanted isn't it?" Pestilence asked with a sad tone. As if it pained him to do this.

"N-no. I would never... never want this" Death shook his head in denial.

"You wanted to taste the life of a fellow Horseman. Now I have provided it." As the words were spoken Mordred could feel a new power flow into him from his scythe. War's blood which coated the smooth metal made his body hum with strength. Death had never felt so full. It made him sick.

But it appeared Pestilence had not finished. Stalking up to where War lay, he reached down and wrapped a hand around Arthur's limp arm and proceeded to drag the elder's body up to the chasm leading to earth below. "Have you gone mad!" Victory screeched from where she was separated from the proceedings. The younger Horseman did not answer her though and only took the time to spare her a glance before flinging Arthur into the opening. "WAR!" The invisible barrier collapsed before Victoria and she raced across the field and threw her arm out to try and catch Arthur before he fell. But it was too late. He slipped through her fingers and disappeared to the awaiting earth below.

Victory stared down at the empty space where War had been for a few moments before whirling on Pestilence and narrowing her eyes in anger. "What. Have. You. DONE!?" she screamed at him.

"War is no longer a Horseman. I have sent him to the earth to become a new personification. One of a group of humans below." Rage boiled in Victoria, along with determination.

"You think you can destroy him? You have opened a door Pestilence, and I intend to walk through it. If he is now a manifestation of humans then I will raise his people up. I will make him great for Victory and Conquest will be at his side in all things." Making her vow, Victoria spread her mighty white wings and dove through the opening to the earth, disappearing from Mordred's view.

Once Victory had disappeared Pestilence returned his attention to Death who was now sitting limp in his chains. "I am not done with you yet" he began.

Mordred raised his eyes slowly to met the shadow that hid his brother's face from him. "You can do nothing more to me. I never cared for anything before War and now he's gone." Death truly believed what he said. Nothing he could imagine could be worse than having taken War's power for himself and casting his brother down to Earth.

Death did not struggle as Pestilence went to stand behind him and took grip on his wings the same way he had to War. "For your sins you shall be made slave to the earth over which you deem yourself superior. Your body bound to the land and your soul to belong to the humans who call that ground their home. Their joys shall be yours and their pains your agony." Mordred made no sound as his wings were ripped from their place on his back. He simply closed his eyes and tried to stop the flow of tears that sought escape past his shut lids. "From now until the call is made, you will be called nation."

"So you intend to make me a personification on Earth as well? What will that accomplish?" Death asked through the deep breaths he took to control the terrible pain running across his back.

"You wish to claim your kingdom on Earth? I am giving it to you. You will represent a great people and they will rise to power unlike any other. But it will come at a cost. War will go before you. With Victory as his champion he will create an empire few have ever rivaled. It is through his blood that you will gain power. For what has happened shall happen again. His empire will crumble to build the foundation for your own. His strength will feed your greed. And when it comes time for a quarter of the world to bend beneath your will it will be his life that brings your ambition to fulfillment." As Pestilence spoke Mordred's eyes grew wide in fear.

Steeling his nerve Death shook his head in defiance "No. No I will never. You were the one to plunge my scythe through him. Send me to Earth and I will only strengthen his people. We are brothers. My people will be his people. I would never betray him."

Pestilence gave a sad laugh and shook his head. "You have betrayed him already. True, as you are now perhaps you would keep this vow. But that is not how you will enter the Earth. You will be stripped of your memories and left at the mercy of your truest nature." The hooded rider lifted his hand and placed it over Mordred's eyes. "Only when all this has come to pass and the time has come for the seals to be broken will your memories be returned. Only then will you know the extent of your sin."

Mordred's vision blurred white and Death knew no more.

* * *

When America first awoke he saw two things. The first was an endless ocean of golden fields of grain. Their lengthy stalks stood taller than the small wheat blond boy and they swayed in the wind creating a symphony of shifting sounds that would remind a person more of a sea than of a plain. The second, was the sky. Deep and blue, it covered the world in a seamless cerulean dome accentuated by airy white clouds.

Most would describe the scene as peaceful, serene, and the same could be said of America. He smiled and made a gasp of wonder as he took in the scene. While he had not yet learned of the capacity to speak America's thoughts were simple. '_Wow. Is this all me? I have to make sure to protect it all!' _ For the sky would always continue to hang above the earth and the clouds were ever shifting, but the grain might die if not cared for correctly. By merit of his kind this should have been the extent of America's first memory, but it was not. Because soon after these thoughts passed his mind he heard the sound of soft footsteps from close by followed soon by a voice.

"Ha ha! Even though I was busy I managed to get here before France! I heard from Finland that there was a mysterious boy wandering around here. I need to be sure to find him first!" The voice was lighthearted and kind.

Chasing it's sound America found himself running into a man who was much taller than him with hair like gold and green eyes that seemed somehow familiar. He wore slightly ragged clothing and he seemed a bit tired though in his expression the small nation could see a fiery determination that refused to be quenched by whatever hardships he was clearly facing. "Ah hello! I'm happy to meet you!" he greeted.

The tall man jumped a little at the sound of someone speaking to him and looked down to meet the bright blue eyes of the boy before him. Something akin to shock and slight sadness passed over his eyes before being overcome by confusion. "Y-You're not running away?" he asked.

America tilted his head to the side slightly and hummed in thought before responding. "Hmm. Nope. I'm fine." Sensing the unease of the older man America smiled sweetly up at him. A wind blew across the plain that ruffled the hair of both blonds.

"I-I see. In that case I'm happy to meet you as well. You're a brave lad aren't you?" The boy nodded and a smile crept onto the man's face. "Okay then! In that case that makes it easy! From today on, you're my little brother." He knelt down to America's level and reached out a hand. "Let's go home."

America stared down at the hand for but a moment before reaching out and grasping it eagerly, mouth forming an 'o' shape in wonder of how much larger and rougher the man's hand was. But it was warm. "Alright. Then what should I call you? Big brother?"

The man's smile faltered slightly and he seemed to remember something for a moment before his smile returned, if a bit strained. "N-no. England is fine. Or you could call me Arthur. That's my human name."

America let out a hum of understanding. "Okay. Do I have a human name?" England seemed to think for a moment while lifting America up and holding him carefully in his arms.

"I guess not. Would you like one?" America nodded eagerly and England smiled. "Alright then. How about Mor... I mean Alfred?" America tilted his head a bit in confusion at how England had hesitated over the name but in the end he nodded.

"Yes! From now on I'm Alfred! And I'm gonna be a hero!"

* * *

**Its over! Like I said. It was so freaking LONG! So now we have the explanation of who Victoria/Eris, England, and America really are. I hope it wasn't too disappointing. This backstory went through so many drafts before I settled on this so I hope you all liked it. I thank everyone who managed to read through all of that as well has kept up with this story so far. Your reviews make my day. The next chapter we are back to the present and we can see what Alfred thinks of his past. And also we will go back to my normal chapter length. Please tell me what you think. It will help me update faster!**


	10. Chapter 10

**Not happy with this chapter. Just going to say that right off the bat. But we do get reactions to what happened last chapter. And also a little insight into what the bad guys are planning. Anyway enjoy!**

* * *

The_ man's smile faltered slightly and he seemed to remember something for a moment before his smile returned, if a bit strained. "N-no. England is fine. Or you could call me Arthur. That's my human name."_

_America let out a hum of understanding. "Okay. Do I have a human name?" England seemed to think for a moment while lifting America up and holding him carefully in his arms._

_"I guess not. Would you like one?" America nodded eagerly and England smiled. "Alright then. How about Mor... I mean Alfred?" America tilted his head a bit in confusion at how England had hesitated over the name but in the end he nodded._

_"Yes! From now on I'm Alfred! And I'm gonna be a hero!"_

America blinked once, all the memories of thousands of years flooding into his mind in the span of a single instant. Years upon years of a family he never knew he had. How the four of them rose, and his own descent into what could only be described as madness born of a lust for blood. It was so much, maybe even too much. Every event, every action in the life he remembered as America was given new meaning. New motivation. It changed everything. But at the same time, it changed nothing at all. England, Arthur, War, was still his brother and still needed his help. He could loathe his mistakes later. For now he had something more important to do.

When at last the memories had ceased and he had once again experienced the whole of both his long lives, America rose. As Alfred and as Mordred and as Death. Remaining silent so as to let the new information sink in Alfred rolled his head from one shoulder then the other to crack his neck and sighed in relief as he heard the slight pop. He shook out his giant skeletal wings to their fullest extent and relished at how every joint cracked and settled into a familiar ease against one another. And then he felt the power.

For every death and every casualty that had ever taken place it was like he accumulated the strength that soul had. Granted humans carried very little, but there were a lot of them. And for every war. Every war that had previously given strength to Arthur now serviced him. He felt the burning fires of conflict writhe inside him. He had never really gotten the opportunity before becoming America to fully take in the power that was now his. The combined strength of two Horsemen.

Once the shock of everything passed, Alfred breathed a sigh of relief. He had feared that learning of his past, of accepting that he had been something dark and corrupted before would change him. Make him the same kind of monster he had become so long ago. But that wasn't the case. True enough he felt different. He felt older, more tired as the weight of so much time and so many mistakes landed on his shoulders, but he still felt like America. Like Alfred. And taking in his newly restored body as Death, Alfred decided that while he would accept Mordred as having been part of him, he would remain the same America he had always been. A hero. And... there was a surprising lack of commentary. "Thank God" Alfred sighed as he realized that Mordred was now gone. That annoying pest was now just another part of himself. The culmination of memories and regrets from his past.

With one last steadying breath Alfred exited his room and started weaving his way through the now trashed halls of the Keep. He would need to speak to Victory soon enough, but first there was something else he needed to face. It didn't take long to find where Victoria had decided to lock it away. If it were the other way around Death would have done the same. Reaching a locked iron door Death opened the entrance and began to descend the stone steps. There was no light, the glow from the hallway not daring to breach this long passage. But the darkness did not frighten Death as it would have previously frightened America.

"_Honestly, scared of ghosts. I couldn't think of a more embarrassing fear for you to have. No wonder Eris could twist your mind around so easily."_

Alfred chuckled quietly to himself. Now Mordred's little comment when they had first met made so much more sense. Imagine, Death afraid of ghosts. America wondered if that was done as some joke by Pestilence but then immediately discarded the idea. Pestilence wasn't that much fun. '_No, his idea of fun is ripping his own family apart'_ Death thought with more than a little animosity. Regardless, once Alfred reached the bottom of the steps he snapped his fingers and pale green flames that flickered with traces of red sparked within sconces aligned along the walls. Magic, well, now Alfred kind of felt bad for all the times he had ridiculed England's claims of knowing magic. He would have to apologize later... Or maybe not. It was funny to watch him get so flustered over it.

The light of his summoned flames revealed a stone altar at the center of the room. One of the many vaults that were hidden beneath the Keep. And resting atop the altar on a simple stand, was a very familiar weapon. The Scythe of the Reaper. Alfred gulped when he took in the glinting silver blade. This... this was what had driven him over the edge. But he needed it. It was given to him for a reason, and it was what he needed to rescue England now. Death reached out his hand and let it hover over the shaft of the staff which held the curved blade. The space between his hand and the weapon seemed to hum in anticipation. Alfred could sense the tempting call within the blade. He took a deep breath. He was doing this for War. He was doing this to fix the mistake he had made. He needed to overcome this. Death reached out, and took the scythe in his hand.

It was underwhelming really. In all honesty Alfred had expected to be overcome with a deep hunger, a desire for death and blood. But while that desire was indeed present, it was muted, subdued. Perhaps it was the fact that he had spent so long without it. Or maybe it was because Alfred had yet to use its powers fully. But America found himself keeping the same frame of mind as before. '_Or maybe I just have something far more important I'm fighting for than to satisfy my own greed.' _Alfred smiled as he skillfully twirled the scythe in his hand to test out his muscle memory. The blade glinted in the light and cut through the air with a smooth fluidity Death could remember from even as far back as the War of the Fallen. He was ready.

Storing the scythe away over his shoulder Alfred turned on his heel and quickly made his way out of the vault and towards the front entrance. He easily ignored the uneasy stares of the angels who flitted about him, trying to fix up the ruined Keep. There was only one he had any interest in speaking to. "Rizoel!" One of the angels who followed Victory turned from where he was sweeping up broken glass and immediately started shaking slightly when he saw that Death stood before him.

"O-oh, Death. W-what can I do for you?" Alfred didn't blame the guy for being scared. It wasn't a secret that before he was sent to Earth Mordred killed angels and demons indiscriminately to feed his desire for life. But now was not the time for stuttering.

"Relax, I'm not going to hurt you. Just tell me where Victory has run off to. War was taken by Beleth and we need to discuss a plan to get him back." Rizoel seemed to consider the truth of Alfred's words before slowly nodding and straightening up a bit. The poor angel had practically been cowering in fear.

Rizoel pointed towards the front door. "I believe she has departed for the stables. Cerise will be able to lead the way to your brother War. If I understand correctly she intends to use that connection to find him." Death nodded in thanks and left the angel to continue his work without sparing him another glance.

As he distanced himself he felt the scythe at his back heat slightly as a perfectly good meal was being passed up. It was like the scythe was trying to pull him back, telling him to slaughter the angel. '_Quiet you. I'm not that person anymore. I'm the hero. And heroes don't go around killing innocent people.' _At the silent chastisement the blade returned to its normal state. Alfred felt proud of himself. He had resisted.

As soon as he exited the Keep Alfred spread his wings and flew off towards where he recalled the stables being located. It was strange, now that he had the knowledge of physics and aviation after his time as America, that he could even fly at all. His skeleton wings should not be able to lift him off the ground or even make much in the way of wind. But somehow each time he beat them great gusts would be thrown out to lift him into the sky. Alfred decided to just let the matter rest. At this point anything was possible. He landed again once he reached the small stable where he saw Victory angrily stomping about and adjusting the saddle and reins on Triumph. A wave of nostalgia struck Death as he recognized the white horse.

Turning towards the right he was careful to stay out of sight of Victory while he took in the other two war horses in the stable. Cerise, Arthur's beautiful red horse, and his own pale one Hades. "Hey boy. Miss me?" he asked quietly, walking up with a small smile and stroking the stallion's head softly. Hades met his look and leaned into his hand. He made a light nickering noise and brushed his nose against Alfred's cheek. Death heard the sound of Victoria walking towards him but ignored it in preference of staring into the pale green eyes of his steed. After all, as the Four Horsemen, their horses were like an extension of themselves. Seeing Hades again after so long felt like he was being reunited with a long lost friend. Which in many ways he was.

"He seemed just fine without you" Victory chose now to insert herself into the moment that horse and rider were having. Her tone was bitter and while Alfred's first instinct was to scowl and give some sort of retort back, knowing that Victoria had every reason to hate him made him content to let the unspoken insult simply flow over him. They both had bigger issues to deal with.

Death turned to face his elder sister. "I remember now." Victory crossed her arms and kept her frown tightly in place.

"I can see that. What I want to know is what you intend to do now. As you can see the situation has changed greatly than from when this all began."

Alfred nodded. "Look. I know you're angry at me for starting all of this back then. But you and I both know that there is something more important than whatever mistakes I made. England is in trouble and we need to work together to save him."

"His name is War. You know that now. Don't call him by that nation name" she spit out at him. Alfred quickly thought back. It was true that during this whole ordeal Eris had rarely ever referred to the Brit as England or the United Kingdom.

"Sorry if I offended you. But regardless if he's War or England he is still Arthur and he is still my brother. I want to make things right." Alfred was internally surprised by his own sense of calm. He was sure if England was present he would be slack-jawed by the American's apparent maturity during this situation. He decided it must have been an aftereffect of combining his memories as both Mordred and Alfred.

Victory snorted in derision. "Fine. If you must know I am planning to go to Beleth." Death frowned.

"To ride into battle?"

Eris frowned and looked at him with a put out expression before averting her gaze and pretending to focus on the straps of her saddle. "...No."

"You don't mean-"

"That's exactly what I mean" the silver-haired rider shot back before quickly mounting Triumph. She made to urge the horse forward but Alfred stepped in the way and roughly grabbed the reins to keep her in place. "Let me go" Victoria warned with narrowed eyes. She let her wings spread out in silent threat and Death had to fight the urge to answer back in kind. Alfred was careful to keep his wings tucked tight to his back though and shook his head.

"You are _not _surrendering to that scum."

Victoria growled in frustration. "I don't have a choice! With Arthur's country as vulnerable as it is now if he falls it could very well be for good. He could DIE Mordred! But I guess that wouldn't mean all that much to you would it?"

Alfred couldn't stop his wings from shifting angrily at that. "Stop it. I care. That was why Pestilence did this remember. I care about Arthur more than anything. And he loves you. He would never forgive either of us if you surrender. There has to be another way."

Victory gave a strained laugh. "Well do you have any brilliant ideas Mr. Hero?"

Alfred thought for a moment. Did he have any ideas? "Um, not yet" he admitted.

"Well we have two days before Beleth kills Arthur. If we don't have a plan by then it won't matter. I will not let War die."

"Can't we just storm the place? We are Victory and Death for crying out loud! It's not like we couldn't just fight our way through."

Victoria shook her head. "No. Beleth will be sure to keep a tight grip on War. If he even gets a feeling that we're planning on attacking him head on he will strike. We can't take that risk." Alfred thought on that for a moment but then nodded his head in agreement.

"Alright good point. But come on, you're Victory, you must have some kind of strategy in that head of yours that could help us. Remember. Never give up. Never surrender." Victoria scowled at that and gave Alfred a suspicious look

"Where did you get that? .A fortune cookie? Or perhaps one of your Hollywood films?" Alfred scratched the back of his head in slight embarrassment

"Um... maybe?" Victoria scoffed and rolled her eyes.

"Think about it Death. Beleth knows we would do anything to keep War safe and it's only a matter of time before I surrender. He already lost everything when he was thrown into Hell so he has nothing to lose and everything to gain. And now that Arthur is at his mercy he has the opportunity to get exactly what he wants."

"And what is that exactly?"

Victoria remained silent for a moment and averted her gaze from Death's. Alfred could see how her hands balled into shaking fists around her reins. Finally she spoke. Turning back to look Alfred in the eye she whispered, "Isn't it obvious? Me."

Understanding dawned on Alfred. "He asked you to join him when he threw his lot in with Lucifer during the War of the Fallen."

"He always hated War. He resented the fact that I chose him over Beleth. Lucifer never quite approved but he respected my strength so he didn't object."

Death nodded and suddenly an idea sparked in him. The metaphorical lightbulb going off over his head he smiled. "Hey Victory."

"What?"

"I think I've got a plan."

* * *

To say that being kidnapped and dragged down to Hell wasn't on the top of England's 'to do list' was a massive and disproportionate understatement. Well, that wasn't completely accurate. He wasn't actually _in _Hell. More like he was the closest you could get to being in Hell without actually passing through the gates. Sure the physical location was on the wrong side of the wrought-iron barrier, but since he had not passed through the gates and instead been teleported it meant he could still leave. An important distinction and one he was sure to keep in mind when deciding the gravity of his current predicament.

When some form of consciousness returned to the former Horseman he was quite dismayed to learn that he could neither move nor open his eyes. It was like every inch of his body weighed a thousand tons. So instead of moving and looking around he chose to instead try and employ his other senses to tell what was going on. From what he could feel, or not feel really, he was laying on some sort of hard surface and it didn't seem like he was being restrained at all. '_That bastard must have done something to me' _he figured. Hopefully though, Beleth would assume England was still fully unconscious and not take advantage of his complete vulnerability to work out his aggression. It was no secret after all that the demon primarily blamed War, and partially Pestilence for his defeat during the War of the Fallen. If given the opportunity, Beleth would no doubt make sure that War suffered in every way possible before he eventually killed him and presented his head to Lucifer.

England pushed the dark thoughts from his mind. It would do him no good to come up with worst case scenarios. '_Focus Arthur.' _Straining his ears the nation eventually made out the sound of someone approaching. Two someones by the sound of it. Both were probably clad in armor if the clanking sound was any indication and they were already discussing something when their voices grew progressively louder.

"...trust me with this. I will succeed in bringing Victory to our side." Beleth. War could recognize that voice anywhere.

"The Four Horsemen are steadfast. They will not turn. Especially their leader. Death, perhaps, but never Victory." Now that voice. That was a voice that even someone who had never heard it would immediately recognize as the Great Deceiver. The Devil himself Lucifer. How someone with such sweet sounding a voice could ever become the Prince of Darkness was beyond War, but still the knowledge that he was nearby sent, or least would have sent, shivers down the Brit's spine.

"While I am inclined to agree with you my lord that boy is nothing but a loose cannon. I will admit that his idea to use War to press Victory into surrender was genius in it of itself but he is still too unreliable. And besides, who knows what might have changed after his time on Earth." England wanted to scream in frustration. '_What am I some freaking damsel in distress to be rescued!?' _He felt pained at the fact that Mordred had sought to use him against Victoria, but that pain was now morphing into severe vexation at the fact that he was now being used as bait. After all, it wasn't like he hadn't known that before. '_Still I know America. Victory might be tempted to give in but Alfred won't let her. Heroes don't give up that easily.' _If he had the muscle control to grin he would have.

Lucifer started to speak again while England was having his internal dialogue. "Do what you will, I care not. Just don't drag me into this if things go wrong."

"They won't." Someone snorted in derision and Arthur guessed it had been Lucifer.

"Have you forgotten the War of the Fallen? I told you to retreat back behind the gates and you did not listen. Now look at you. Your wings are disgusting." War internally snorted in amusement. Pestilence sure knew how to make people suffer when he wanted to. Sure Arthur had been the one to defeat him in battle and keep the fallen angel down as the younger horseman made his move, but Pestilence had been the one to see fit to curse Beleth's wings into their diseased state.

"Don't remind me" Beleth snarled. Suddenly all mood for mirth fled the island nation's mind as he felt cold steel against his throat. "Just thinking about his smug look when he defeated me makes me want to sever his head." England was never more thankful for his hopefully temporary paralysis than when he felt whatever was at his neck press deeper and cut the skin. If he could he would have definitely flinched and at least hissed in pain. As it was he could only do those things internally.

As quick as the metal was placed it was removed though, and Lucifer spoke. "Don't. You kill him now and you will lose any chance of making Victory bend to you. Besides, his life is not ours to take."

"Tch. You're not actually placing stock in that curse are you?"

Lucifer chuckled darkly which filled War fill with a sense of dread. "Come now, do you not think it better? You could kill him and get your petty revenge or we could allow fate to play its part and watch the Horsemen tear each other apart."

"What do you mean?" Did Beleth really not know? Arthur wasn't sure what he should hope for. Both options they seemed to be deciding between included him dying, all that was different was the executioner.

"As of now War is not a Horseman, he is the nation of England. Pestilence decreed that England is to die at the hands of the United States of America. So I say, why not embrace that? What could be better than watching one brother slaughter the other? If Death kills War, then Victory will not rest until she has slain both the one who held the sword and the one who placed it in his hand. Once the dust has settled War, Pestilence, and Death will be dead and Victory left to collect at your convenience." The mere thought of what Lucifer was suggesting made England sick. He refused to be the catalyst for his family killing each other.

"I see. But how do we get America to fight England? Even when he was rebelling against the seals he couldn't bring himself to truly fight him." '_You are also forgetting the fact that I would never let myself get into a fight to the death with Alfred if at all possible' _Arthur added internally.

"Ah Beleth, you lack so much vision." England heard the sound of more movement until a hissing noise began to reach his ears. '_Is that?' _England started to feel the beginnings of panic well inside him, but still he could not move. A cold, smooth object weighing about ten pounds landed on England's legs. The hissing came from closer this time and Arthur could feel the weight slithering about. '_Oh God it's his snake.' _

War tried not to focus on how the serpent was slowly weaving its way up his legs and the onto his torso, its tongue darting out and occasionally making contact with his pale skin. "Lucifer you are without equal in genius" Beleth admired in an awed voice. Arthur felt the snake work it's way up his chest until he could hear hissing not inches from his face. Now, Arthur wasn't afraid of snakes, not by any means. But when it came to Lucifer's pet serpent that was a completely different story. That little beast had been the one to carry the Devil's words to Adam and Eve before they had been cast out of the garden of Eden. That was the serpent who whispered lies and bid people to believe them. War did not want to learn what Lucifer had in mind for the snake to do to him.

"For the record, I already have something planned. But if things do go wrong for some reason this will make an excellent back-up plan" Beleth added.

Lucifer made a tsking sound. "Very well. It is up to you. Just know that I don't plan on getting involved."

"Naturally."

The hissing grew louder for a moment then suddenly Arthur felt the monster strike at his neck with outstretched fangs. It was like the snake biting him had lifted whatever force that was keeping England immobile for a soon as he felt the pain of the snake's fangs, he could open his eyes and scream.

* * *

**I wonder what a demon snake bite does? I guess we'll see. And also the hero has a plan! Whether or not that plan will blow up in his face remains to be seen though. Next chapter we begin the main conflict. That might mean the chapter will be longer than normal. But probably not as long as the last one. I'm not sure yet. Thanks for keeping up with this story! Please tell me what you think. It will help me update faster!**


	11. Chapter 11

**So I lied, this isn't a longer chapter. It was going to be but I decided to break it up into two because I thought of a good way for this one to end. You know how I said there was going to be more action? Well it starts now. So I apologize ahead of time for my poor writing of it. Primarily in the next chapter. Still I hope you enjoy!**

* * *

_"For the record, I already have something planned. But if things do go wrong for some reason this will make an excellent back-up plan" Beleth added._

_Lucifer made a tsking sound. "Very well. It is up to you. Just know that I don't plan on getting involved."_

_"Naturally."_

_The hissing grew louder for a moment then suddenly Arthur felt the monster strike at his neck with outstretched fangs. It was like the snake biting him had lifted whatever force that was keeping England immobile for a soon as he felt the pain of the snake's fangs, he could open his eyes and scream._

* * *

Alfred watched the proceedings from where he stayed shrouded in the shadows with nervous anticipation. True this was his plan, but that didn't mean he wasn't worried about its outcome. He and Eris had followed Cerise through the gates of Hell and together they had weaved their way through the dead and shadowed forests of the Pit which was strangely lacking in demons. They were both suspicious about this, but it figured that if Beleth wanted them to go to him, he wouldn't make it difficult to do so. That being said, this was where things were about to get tricky. Victory neared a large circular building that looked a lot like the Coliseum of Rome probably did in it's heyday.

When she neared the large wooden, double door entrance Eris dismounted Triumph and cleared her throat. "BELETH!" she called out to the building. Some large bats took off from the tops of the coliseum. For a few tense moments nothing else happened. And just as Death began to worry his plot had been discovered the gargantuan doors slowly started to creak open and out from the gloom came a small contingent of demons led by Beleth himself. The curly-haired fallen angel noticeably smiled even from as far back as where Alfred was watching from. The two old enemies started speaking, but he could not make out the words. All he knew for sure was that he heard Arthur's name spoken a few times and his own once or twice. Beleth's mood did seem to markedly improve though which Death could only take as a sign that things were going well.

Finally, after over ten minutes of heated discussion Victoria's shoulders drooped and she removed her bow and quiver of arrows from her back and placed them on Triumph's saddle. Beleth's toothy grin shone even to Alfred. But that soon faded as Victory gave the white horse a swift smack and whistled, sending Triumph galloping away before any of the demons could do anything. Growling menacingly, Beleth struck Eris across the cheek with the back of his hand and shouted something Death could not make out. Much to the fallen angel's chagrin however, Eris made no sound after being struck and simply turned her head to return the glare she had up to then been sending him.

Triumph rocketed into the dark shade of the dead trees where Death had been watching from and Alfred took hold of the white horse's reins as soon as he came into reach. That was the signal. Beleth had accepted her surrender without question, now it was up to Alfred to make use of it. Petting the stallion's neck to calm the beast. '_All part of the plan buddy. All part of the plan.' _America couldn't be sure if he was thinking it to assure Triumph or to assure himself. The stakes could not be higher. If he messed this up he would lose both his siblings in one fell swoop.

The Horseman watched tensely as Beleth eyed Victoria lustfully before taking her hand and pressing a wet kiss to her knuckles. By the way her wings bristled Alfred could guess how disgusting the woman found the gesture. She ripped her hand back and the demon smirked. Beleth stepped to the side and gave a mocking bow while gesturing towards the shadowed entrance beyond the still open doors. Victory strode forward proudly and defiantly into the darkness, the fallen angel right on her heels. The last two demons to return inside took hold of one of doors each and pulled the great doors shut behind them. Locking Alfred out of the compound.

Alfred made a sigh of relief. So far everything was going fine. Victory had gotten inside. Now it was his turn. Death slowly retreated from the coliseum and turned to face the three horses he still had the company of. Taking a deep breath he reached out and took hold of the white bow and the arrows that Victoria had left on Triumph's saddle, careful to assure that a thick cloth separated his skin from making contact with it. It was heavy. Heavier than he had expected, weighing almost the same as his own scythe. And then turning to Cerise he took a sheathed sword from the red horse's saddle using the same procedure. As he thought, Arthur's sword was heavy as well. Death gingerly placed the weapons belonging to his elder siblings down onto the ground and covered them lightly with anything he could find on the ground. It didn't feel right having touched those weapons. The Four Horsemen never touched one another's weapons, and Victoria had been loathe to make this exception even with the cloth between them. Unfortunately, it wasn't like they had had much of a choice. When the weapons were satisfactorily hidden Death turned back to the horses.

"Alright you guys. You need to get out of here alright?" Triumph, Cerise, and Hades all blinked at him uncomprehendingly. "Don't give me that. I'll take care of this, you all need to go back to the Keep." Reaching deep into the pockets of his bomber jacket Alfred dug up three identical papers all rolled and sealed with his mark of the crescent moon overlapped by a cross. The mark of Hades. "Each of you take one and find either Pestilence or Plague. I doubt he'll feel like doing anything but we could really use the lazy ass' help." Depositing a letter into each of the horse's saddlebags America sent the three horses off in search of the only missing rider and his steed.

Once the three disappeared from view Alfred turned back towards the coliseum and quickly made his approach. Coming up to the large wooden doorway Death placed his hand over the locked entrance. "Come on come on" he muttered under his breath as his hand roamed the surface of the wood. He had yet to see a single guard around here but there was no guarantee that one would not show. '_Bingo.' _America's hand brushed against a notch in the wood. Taking out his scythe Death placed the tip of the curved blade onto the notch and watched with a pleased expression as the wood began to rot and weaken from the spot. The notch had been the equivalent of what some might call the wood's thread of life. Every living thing had one, and if the right kind of pressure were applied to it, the person or object would begin to decay on the spot. As Death, he could always find that spot.

After having weakened the door to an acceptable degree Alfred retracted the scythe and watched with a sly grin as the door swung open on its hinges a weak groan emanating from the rotted wood. Death stepped into the darkness without hesitation and allowed the doors to swing closed behind him.

"I think you will enjoy what I have planned." Alfred jumped at hearing Beleth's voice so close. Turning his head from one side to the other he quickly jumped behind a line of columns to held his breath. Peeking over, he could make out Beleth and Victory. The tall demon was tugging the silver-haired woman by her arm.

Eris snatched back her arm. "I don't care what you have planned. Where is War? You agreed to release him." Something in Beleth seemed to snap and quick as a striking snake he shoved Eris against a stone wall and held her there by her arms. Victoria snarled at him in outrage. "What are you-"

"I wouldn't push my luck if I were you." He leaned up close so that his cheek brushed against hers. "You surrendered remember? You belong to me now."

"Cut the crap. I don't belong to anyone!" Victoria lifted her hands and shoved at Beleth. Alfred expected him to go flying, but much to the surprise of both Horsemen, he didn't budge an inch. Eris' face morphed into one of shock and indignation while Beleth smirked dangerously.

"Did you forget? As the one who cannot be defeated, it is you who forges your own chains." As he spoke Beleth backed away and traced a finger around the curve of Victory's neck. As the finger traced its path a thin silver collar appeared. Eris' eyes narrowed as her hand went up and felt the new ornament.

"I did not forget. You might hold the leash for now. But it will not last." Eris pushed herself off of the wall but made no other move against him.

Beleth chuckled and started leading away from where America was still hiding. Eris begrudgingly following behind. "Now, as for Arthur. You'll see him soon enough." As they continued on Alfred could hear less and less of what they were saying, but he did notice as Victory shot a look over her shoulder to the dark shadows where she probably guessed Death was laying in wait. And that look clearly said. '_Death you had better follow through with this or I swear I will kill you if it is the last thing I do.' _Alfred swallowed a little nervously under that intense glare and waited until the pair disappeared before moving on.

With a deep breath Alfred moved off to the side. He followed the curve of the building through the rafters, trying to find a way up to a better position so that he could watch what was going on from above and try to find Arthur. That was when he heard the rumblings of some sort of beast. Curious, Alfred followed the sound until he reached some kind of large cage. But as shrouded as the whole building seemed to be in darkness he could not see what lay inside. Only that it must be enormous seeing as the cage itself was over a hundred feet tall. From where he sat on the rafters, America tried to peer through the darkness and even summoned small wisps of greenish-red flames and started lowering them within. He had a bad feeling about whatever was in there.

A single ball of flame lowered down the center. The rumbling returned and Alfred felt his whole body stiffen as his gaze was met by a single large eye nearly as tall as he was. Its iris was of a glowing orange that seemed to writhe like the fires of Hell. And the body it was connected to... '_What the hell is he planning to do with that!?' _ This wasn't part of the plan. They weren't ready to fight something like this with War as wounded as he was. He needed to find Arthur and get Victory quickly. Turning away from the cage America made to continue searching for England when he heard a weight drop behind him.

"Death. Beleth never told me that you had become a Horseman once again." Mordred recognized the voice. It was the voice of the fallen angel he had faced off against during the War of the Fallen.

Turning to face his foe Alfred took hold of his scythe and twirled it into position. He needed to get this done quickly. An idea had just popped into his mind of what Beleth was going to do with the beast waiting beneath him, and it wasn't good. Standing before him he saw a demon with silver hair and skin so black it made him almost blend into the shadows. His eyes were a piercing red. His wings pitch black and streaked with splintering white streaks. The fallen angel of death. Hell's counterpart of himself and Azrael. "So you have joined with Beleth then Abaddon?" Abaddon pulled out his own scythe, this one with a curved blade that was jagged and rusting where Alfred's was smooth and pristine.

"Of course not. I am simply here to watch over his pet while he is busy with Victory. But now that this opportunity has presented itself... I have been waiting for this rematch for an eternity." Abaddon swung his scythe and locked it with Alfred's. "And this time I won't lose."

* * *

Arthur rubbed at the bite mark on his neck for what must have been the hundredth time. He growled and frustration as his fingers brushed the two puncture wounds from the snake's fangs and forced himself to drop his hand. After having regained control of his body he had been put in some sort of cell and simply left to his own devices. It wasn't like he could get anywhere and Beleth knew it. It was strange though. After the bite, he had seemed to regain his nation strength. Sure he could still feel the weakness in his heart from London's destruction but for some reason the serpent's venom seemed to be sending an almost adrenaline-like rush through him which almost made him feel normal. But why would Lucifer and Beleth want to give him back his strength? What were they planning? _'Maybe Hell's powers are more potent than Heaven's?... Wait, what?' _England shook his head to rid himself of that line of thinking.

As if in answer to his internal questions the door to cell was opened and two demons walked in. Knowing it was futile to struggle England allowed his hands to be tied behind his back and followed the demons as they lead him out into a long passageway that ended in some sort of entryway.

War flinched at the sudden light as he was thrust from the dark passageway and into a wide open space. With his arms bound behind him he had no choice but to wince and turn his head down to protect his now overly sensitive eyes from the sudden orange light of the underworld's odd version of the sun. He heard an eerily familiar noise of a cheering crowd filled with bloodlust. Peeking out from behind blond bangs Arthur saw that he was in some sort of arena. Just like the Coliseum. He bit back an instinctive whimper as memories of Rome and when he had been a weak and defenseless child came rushing back. But he wasn't just Albion, he wasn't just a country. Even if his power was stolen from him he was still War. He would always be War.

Ignoring the burn at the back of his eyes Arthur forced himself to lift his head and march forward into whatever sick game Beleth had planned. Knowing what Ancient Rome had made him watch in places like this, suddenly giving his strength back didn't seem too outlandish. It would make for a better show. His snake bite started to sting slightly and Arthur pushed the unsettling feeling he got from it down. Two demons pushed him forward, each with one hand on his shoulder and another on his bound forearms to dissuade him from trying anything. Once the procession reached the center of the dirt covered arena the demons pulled him to a stop and with their enhanced strength pushed him down to his knees before a balcony where Beleth sat along with a few of his stronger subordinates. And Victory. War met the violet eyes of his forerunner in confusion and she met his but for a moment before looking away in shame. '_No... Victory' _so she had surrendered once the demons had caught him. But then, where was Death? Where was Alfred? He was supposed to stop her! _'What do you think? He abandoned you, like he always does.'_ Again War shook his head._ 'No! That's not true!' _War fought the despair he felt seep into him at seeing his love sit in submission before one of the Fallen and the conflicted thoughts flooding his mind. Unable to look upon the scene any longer Arthur let his head drop and his gaze lower to the ground. The crowd renewed its cheers and War bit his lip to hold in sounds of pain that tried to escape.

* * *

Victoria felt sick sitting to Beleth's left in the balcony of this arena. She now had a good idea of what Beleth had planned and it made her extremely concerned. '_Death where are you?' _She continued to search the higher levels of the stands, looking for any sign of the youngest rider but as of yet she had not seen a hint of him ever since she had entered the structure. The collar around her neck felt heavy. She had known it would appear when she surrendered, but she had underestimated how difficult it would be to resist its influence.

Victory grew even more ashamed as she watched War lower his head from the corner of her eye and felt the pit in her stomach sink even more. The demons sitting in the stands cheered even harder at how the second rider seemed to lose his will. "He will still fight you Betrayer" she said confidently lifting her chin to face the man who she sat beside. The fallen angel looked down at her with his crimson eyes and smirked, showing his fangs. Tugging on her collar, he pulled Victory up so her face was inches from his own and she pulled back as far as she could from the foul stench of decay that permeated the demon.

"Perhaps, but what good would it do? He is weak, his powers as a Horseman stolen by one of his own, and neither of your brothers seems to be coming to rescue you. The Four have fallen. He may fight, but he will die." Victoria gulped in fear. Normally that would not be so. Even though he was no longer a Horseman, War still had the body of a nation. But Beleth had been clever. Victory could still tell by the subtle way Arthur's body shook and the pallid color of his skin that he was very weak. Perhaps even mortal because of the damage that had been done to his physical heart. The city of London had been eradicated and now England was on the brink of utter collapse. And still Pestilence had not undone his curse. '_Are you willing to watch your brother truly die to fulfill your punishment Pestilence?'_ "But I am merciful." He turned to face Arthur, "War!" Victoria was pulled out of her thoughts as Beleth called down to War in the arena and the crowd silenced almost immediately. The blond nation looked up to face the one behind all this, growling under his breath and scowling in defiance.

"What do you want Beleth? If you intend to kill me do it and be done. I grow tired of this." Victory smiled at the way her second was still as proud and defiant in this situation as in any other. But the calm on Beleth's face was enough to quickly snuff that out. The Fallen began to chuckle deeply in amusement, his diseased wings fluttering in excitement at his back.

"Oh be assured, I intend to watch the Horseman of War die this day. But I put it to you to decide how it shall be done. I offer you a choice. Be put to the sword..." Beleth paused to allow the raucous cheers of his demons to engulf the stadium before raising a hand for silence. "Or, bow to me, and I shall return to you your strength. Become one of the Fallen and you might be named protector over my new Queen." Victory felt bile fill her mouth as she was pulled up once again and a kiss was pressed to her cheek. She ripped her head back and spit in the demon's face.

"Never" she hissed.

Beleth looked unphased by her show of defiance, instead turning to see how War would decide. Victory didn't need to even look his way, she already knew how Arthur would respond.

The Second Rider went completely still and pulled meagerly against the hold the two demons had over him. Feeling this as a sign of submission the two demons eased their grips greatly to allow the blond to bow to their leader. Victoria saw Beleth's grin start to grow in triumph. Arthur mumbled something quietly that none could hear. "Speak up. Let me hear you swear your loyalty to me." Victoria gave a mischievous grin.

"I said" War began, loud enough now for all to hear. "Never in all of eternity, would I bow to scum like you." Victoria gave a shout of triumph and watched how Arthur shot to his feet and sent a kick into the chest of one of the demons who had held him down prior. She was impressed by his strength. She had expected him to be much weaker. Of course, she also wasn't aware that this unusual strength was stemming from a bite from Lucifer's snake on his neck. The demon hissed and stumbled back, falling to the ground wheezing as the air was pushed from his lungs. The other demon hissed and moved on War, summoning a sword to his hand and advancing on the defenseless blond. Arthur waited patiently, readying himself. The demon charged and swung the blade. War ducked and rolled away underneath the demon so that he came out behind him. Spinning quickly, he jumped and wrapped his legs around the neck of the standing demon, bringing them both hard to the ground. Arthur locked his ankles and squeezed until a sickening crack could be heard throughout the arena.

The crowd gasped and Beleth hissed in frustration but Victoria just watched as War quickly rose to his feet once again and bent down to grip the sword with the hands bound behind his back and deftly cut the rope, freeing himself. Silently she admired the man's ability to almost instantly imitate any form of combat after observing once. A perk of being the personification of war she guessed. He rose once again, taking the sword and stalking over to the remaining demon who was crawling away, still trying to regain his breath. "Like I said during the War of the Fallen" Arthur drove the sword down through the demon's back and glared defiantly up at Beleth, not flinching as the crowd screamed in outrage or the demon's blood splattered across his face. "The Four bow to none but their Creator." Victoria smiled. Yes, weakened or no, War would always be War. She didn't see from her position, as a dark mark of infection grew slightly across the nation's neck.

Beleth clenched his fists in frustration but kept his face stolid to the rest of the demons present. Victory noticed though and smirked, sending an adoring glance towards her fellow Horseman. Then Beleth started to speak once again. "I see. In that case I'm sure my fellow demons here will be most pleased to watch you die." The fallen angel snapped fingers and suddenly the ragged and ripped clothing that Arthur was wearing was replaced by a familiar set of red armor. The kind he used as War. Arthur gave the armor a once over and then looked up at Beleth with a confused and suspicious expression and a raised brow.

"What are you planning?" Victory demanded of him.

Beleth laughed quietly to himself before speaking. "I heard a story once. A story of a valiant knight who rescued a beautiful princess from the clutches of a vile beast." Beleth stood from his seat and walked up to the front of the balcony where a shield rested in the corner. Lifting it up from the ground he threw it down so it landed in the dirt about a hundred paces from where Arthur stood. Both Horsemen shared a confused look when they realized that the medieval looking shield was painted in the colors of St. George's Cross.

"...Shit." Victory heard War curse. '_Death hurry' _she silently pleaded to the still absent Horseman.

"I have heard that your people took this as their symbol. So I wonder, how would England himself fare when placed in the same circumstances of the man who created it?"

* * *

Arthur kept his eyes locked on the shield bearing his people's flag. He knew the story. And he had absolutely no desire to recreate it. Beleth continued to speak. "How will you fare War? In playing the part of the hero in the story of St. George and the Dragon." A sound of groaning wood sounded somewhere behind him. The ground shook beneath War as heavy footsteps steadily neared. Then was let loose a sickening cry. A roar from some immense beast.

Turning slowly, England put his back to Beleth and Victoria to see a scaly black beast at least seven meters tall with a head maybe twice as tall as he was. As the beast exited the dark cavern from where it had come from Arthur met the gaze of two glowing amber eyes. A long tail trailed behind it, swaying back and forth and brandishing a tip armed with six deadly looking spikes. The dragon lifted its head high and let loose a giant pillar of flame from it's jaws of such heat that even those in the stands had to shy away. Two giant wings at least twenty feet long each spread wide in a show of dominance towards the tiny opponent set against it.

When the flames eased the dragon looked back down and it's eyes narrowed on Arthur. England tightened the grip he had on the demon's sword. Too distracted to notice that it should have been burning him at the slightest touch he instead focused on maintaining eye contact with the dragon. Knowing as soon as he looked away it would charge. He could hear the demons in the crowd cheering in excitement.

"Oh bugger."

* * *

**And it begins. I couldn't resist making this a kind of cliff-hanger ending. So we have Death and Abaddon fighting somewhere in the back and now England and a dragon. I wonder how that's going to turn out. The hero better hurry if he wants to save the day. I'm kind of excited to write the next chapter. Please tell me what you think. It will help me update faster!**


	12. Chapter 12

**I am so sorry this took me so long! But it is a longer chapter so I guess that sort of helps. I will admit this chapter is a bit all over the place and I am not super happy with it. Which is part of the reason it took me so long, but I hope you like it. If things were bad before, they are about to get worse. Thank you everybody who has been keeping up with this story and reviewing. You guys are amazing! Enjoy!**

* * *

"But the serpent said to the woman, 'You will not surely die. For God knows that when you eat of it your eyes will be opened, and you will be like God, knowing good and evil.' So when the woman saw that the tree was good for food, and that it was a delight to the eyes, and that the tree was to be desired to make one wise, she took of its fruit and ate, and she also gave some to her husband who was with her, and he ate. Then the eyes of both were opened...Then the Lord God said to the woman, 'What is this that you have done?' The woman said, 'The serpent deceived me, and I ate'." (Genesis 3:4-13)

* * *

_Abaddon swung his scythe and locked it with Alfred's. "And this time I won't lose."_

Alfred pushed back against Abaddon's scythe and jumped back a little so that he was a good distance away, balancing carefully on one of the beams of the rafters. Abaddon also alighted on another beam. Death eyed the dragon in the cage warily before looking back on Abaddon. "I don't have time for this Abaddon" he hissed angrily, grip tightening on his own weapon.

The fallen angel laughed. "Well, you ought to hurry and beat me then" Abaddon launched himself at the Horseman and started swinging his curved blade around fiercely. Alfred matched each strike blow for blow but struggled as he tried to remain balanced on the rafter beam. Abaddon on the other hand was flapping his wings to stay aloft and continue striking. One swipe did manage to cut America's cheek and the dark-haired man grunted in pain before swinging wildly and beating his own wings to alight on a different perch. He turned back towards his foe but was alarmed to notice that the dark-skinned demon had disappeared into the shadows. Laughter echoed around Death. "You are such a disappointment" Abaddon's voice reverberated around him.

Alfred frowned coldly, "What do you mean?"

The glinting of steel caught his eye and Alfred swung his scythe to match Abaddon's and pushed him away. "I admired you you know? When I heard of your rebellion against the seals I knew you had finally become the Death you were meant to be." Abaddon and Alfred continued to clash. Neither one really able to get the upper hand. "We are both agents of mortality. Bloodlust is in our very nature. You suppressed it for so long, to see you embrace who you truly are was so refreshing. It made me look forward to this fight." Once again the dark angel slipped into the shadows. Alfred whirled around trying to see where Abaddon had gone to.

"Show yourself!" he demanded. Silence permeated the deceptively empty darkness within the rafters when suddenly a rumbling sound appeared. Light poured into the rafters as a wide gate was opened before the dragon that sat patiently beneath the two angels. Alfred watched in fright as the dragon shook itself out and rose to its full and immense size. It walked forward into the light to where some sort of arena was set up. A flash of blond hair caught in Death's eyes and he froze in recognition of Arthur. This being the first time Death had looked upon his eldest brother since he had regained his memories. So many thoughts wanted to express themselves in his mind but they were cut off when Abaddon's scythe came swinging towards him. Alfred quickly raised his own blade to block but the blow had come so unexpectedly that he was knocked from his feet and landed flat across one of the beams, just barely blocking the curved edge of the scythe from cutting his head off.

America grunted in effort as he tried to keep the ever encroaching blade from his neck. From somewhere beneath and behind him he heard Abaddon snickering. "But now once again you have become weak. Getting so distracted by War. He is nothing anymore. Really it would be a mercy to let Beleth kill him now. Instead of letting him continue to weaken and crumble." Alfred growled in anger at Abaddon's words. "Perhaps I should be the one to reap his soul once Beleth's dragon eats him. What do you think?"

Now, America as well as Alfred had always had a bit of a temper when it came to certain things. But Mordred and Death had always been quite level-headed. Neither cheerful nor overly upset. But if there was one thing that all sides of the dark-haired Horseman could not abide by. It was the threatening of his brother. And that showed in the moment that Abaddon suggested the idea of him reaping War's soul.

Releasing a roar of outrage Death forced the jagged scythe away from himself and in the span of an instant was on his feet again. Not even waiting to clear the red from his vision Death dove below the beams and tackled Abaddon. The fallen one gave a shout of surprise which turned to pain as Alfred held him fast and they fell towards the ground. In so doing Abaddon was sent hurtling through several layers of wooden beams before finally landing on the ground. America gripped the man by the collar of the black shirt he wore and hauled him up right before pinning him to the wall. "You will _not _touch my brother!" he shouted into Abaddon's face. The fallen angel raised one silver brow.

"Oh? And what will you do about it? You can't stop what's coming. War is already damned." Alfred growled and released his grip on Abaddon just long enough to send the points of his wings into the man's arms and legs. Abaddon let out a scream of pain.

"I will do whatever it takes. War will never fall so long as I am alive to stop it. You're beaten, so I'm going to help him." Alfred removed the points of his wings from Abaddon and watched the man sink to the ground before turning to leave. Before he could though, Abaddon grabbed hold of his scythe once again and forced himself to his feet despite the blood pooling beneath him.

"I don't think so" the dark-skinned male stuttered out. Alfred grit his teeth in frustration. He could hear the cheering of demons and the roar of the black dragon permeating past the now closed gate. He didn't want to outright kill Abaddon. He had been Death's subordinate once. But if he kept stopping Alfred from getting to Arthur he would have no choice. The plan had been so simple. Victory would go in and distract Beleth while Death snuck in and found War. He would then get Arthur out of Hell and back to the Keep before returning and wreaking havoc with Eris. That had been the plan. Oh how well that had gone.

Turning back to Abaddon, Alfred raised his scythe and easily knocked away the wounded man's strikes. "Give up Abaddon. You've lost. I don't want to kill you but I will if I have to." Abaddon spit on the ground, for the first time showing his anger.

"Don't you remember the last time we met? After the War of the Fallen? You didn't kill me then, when you were at your best. There's no way you could kill me now. And that's why I won't let you get away. Not until you've awakened to the Death you were before."

Alfred did in fact recall what it was Abaddon spoke of. It had been some time after he had started using his scythe. When his bloodlust had grown to obsession. And it was part of a long list of memories that would always haunt him.

* * *

_XXXX, Post-War of the Fallen_

_Mordred marched through the large rolling dunes of one of the wastelands of his home. So Pestilence had been born in a place like this? Well, Mordred could see just why. His fellow Horseman was just as bland and inexpressive as these rough sands. Death shook out his wings to dislodge the miniscule grains that had stuck themselves between the joints of his wing bones. "Ugh, this sucks" the youngest of the Four muttered to himself. But it was all worth it. He was going to face an old friend after all. One he couldn't wait to send his scythe through. The war was over, but there were still small contingents that needed to be taken care of._

_Climbing over the top of a tall sand dune Death could just make out a dark figure in the valley of sand beneath him. "Well, you were right. There he is" came a bored voice from slightly behind him._

_Death pushed down the instinct to jump in surprise. "Oh right, you were here too. But how could I have forgotten? We were having such a riveting conversation" he muttered back to his older brother with obvious sarcasm. Pestilence came up to stand right beside Death overlooking the dark figure below._

"_Sometimes I wonder if your tendencies for sarcasm stem from our older siblings or if you just spontaneously developed them as a way to cover up your inability to notice anything other than that which immediately concerns you."_

_Death rolled his eyes and glared, not for the first time, at Pestilence. The hooded rider had not even looked over to the other, simply continued to stare down at the man below them. "What do you plan to do?" he asked._

_Pestilence shrugged. "I only came to chaperone because Victory bid me to. I don't particularly care if you want to face him alone or you desire my aid. It's up to you."_

"_Then in that case you can stay out of it." Death grinned and took out his Scythe of the Reaper. Still dripping in blood from his previous battle. Pestilence made a sound of disgust._

"_Could you not at least clean your weapon between battles. It is in bad taste to parade your victim's blood around like that._

_Mordred just laughed and shook his head, letting the dirtied blade rest over his shoulders. "My scythe, my rules. So like I said stay out of this. I'd rather do it myself. Turning his back on Pestilence, Death descended into the valley._

_When the Horseman neared he could see that the man waiting was a fallen angel with skin as black as Pestilence's wings and silver hair. "Well met, Abaddon" Death greeted with a grin._

_Abaddon turned to face Mordred and gave a respectful tilt of his head. "Good to see you as well Mordred" the fallen angel's grin turned up to match Death's. "It is an honor to be deemed a threat by Death himself." _

_For a moment the two just stared at each other with matching looks of predators sizing up their prey. "A threat? No, no, no. You misunderstand my dear Abaddon. This is simply courtesy. I wouldn't want someone else to be the one to kill one of my former subordinates. Such a shame that this is how we had to face each other" Death sighed, though his tone came out insincere._

"_I couldn't agree more. You've changed since I last saw you."_

_Mordred tilted his head a little in confusion. "Changed? How so?"_

_Abaddon smirked. "You aren't nearly as weak as I remember. The others might not sense it yet but I am an angel of death the same as you. Or at least I was. I can smell the scent of death on you. You like it, don't you?"_

_Death breathed out an "oh" in understanding. Chuckling a little to himself Mordred slid his fingers along the curve of his scythe fondly. Ignoring how his hand became dirtied with the blood coating it. "I must confess, I understand what you mean now. Before you fell I used to chastise you for your enjoyment of taking life needlessly. But now, I think I am beginning to understand your side. Who would have thought that dying screams and cooling blood could taste so sweet?" Both agents of mortality shared a knowing smile. _

_Abaddon sidled up next to Death and started circling while Mordred just watched him without a care. He did not feel threatened at all. "You ought to join us you know? You would do well under Lucifer."_

_Mordred snorted in amusement. "And go against Victory? I'm sorry but I am not that stupid. There isn't a force in all the realms besides the Creator himself who could defeat my sister. And besides, you have lost already."_

"_Would she want to fight you though? Perhaps you could convince her to join us as well."_

_Death gave a bark of laughter. "Are you asking if Victoria would have any qualms about destroying me? Trust me Abaddon. If it meant she could monopolize War's attention she would erase Pestilence and I from existence without a second thought. And before you ask, no. War is far too duty bound to ever join your side." Abaddon sighed and backed away._

"_In that case it would be best not to waste time. We both have masters to please." Abaddon drew a scythe with a jagged blade._

_Death lifted a brow. "A scythe?"_

"_They say imitation is the sincerest form of flattery" Abaddon shrugged._

"_Then consider me flattered" Death drew the Scythe of the Reaper and charged the former angel._

_The fight had been brief but bloody._

_Abaddon's scythe landed on the ground and the fallen angel followed soon after, breathing heavy and staring up at the sky with a resigned smile. "Go on then... Take your prize, I have no reservations about losing my life to you." The sound of shifting sand reached the fallen angel and Abaddon turned his head from where he lay to watch Mordred crouch down in the sand beside him. "What are you waiting for?"_

"_You were a fool to think you could defeat me." Abaddon laughed a little to himself and Mordred gave him a confused look. "What's so funny?"_

"_Ha ha. Forgive me. It is just that you are both right and wrong. When I decided to join Lucifer you were, in my opinion, a weak fool. Always so eager to follow your siblings around and afraid of your own power. It was pathetic and I wanted to claim the title of Death for myself." Abaddon turned his head back up to stare at the sky. "And now? Now you have become what I always hoped you would be. The bloodlust is in you. So go on. Kill me and take my power for your own with your scythe. It would be an honor to die at the hands of a Death such as you."_

"_Hmm" Mordred hummed in understanding and rose to his feet. He raised his scythe to plunge it through Abaddon's chest and the fallen angel closed his eyes in peaceful resignation. But the blow never came. After a few moments the dark-haired Horseman started walking away. He wouldn't kill Abaddon. The fallen angel wished for death by Mordred's hand more than anything. So why would he oblige?_

"_What are you doing?" Abaddon called after him. Mordred turned, letting his scythe rest across his shoulders._

"_I have no urge to kill you. You are no threat to me."_

"_But you-!"_

"_If you want me to kill you then get stronger. Become a threat too dangerous to be kept alive and only then will I give you what you want. Until then you aren't even worth the time it would take to clean your blood from my scythe." With that Mordred turned and left, leaving Abaddon to lick his wounds and plot his revenge. Hoping that someday the fallen angel would return and provide him some amusement._

* * *

You know that saying 'be careful what you wish for'? Mordred had clearly never taken it to heart. "I know what I did. I was right not to kill you. But I did it for the wrong reasons. Just let it go" Alfred urged of the fallen angel. But Abaddon was having none of it. He swung his scythe weakly once again.

"Not 'even worth the time it would take to clean your blood from my scythe' you said. Well how about now huh? I won't let you get anywhere close to War as long as I live. If that is what it takes to make you the Death you were then. And if that is what it takes to get you to kill me then so be it."

Alfred knocked Abaddon's scythe away and pinned him to the wall once again. "I'm a hero. And heroes don't kill people. Stop this."

Abaddon gave a sad laugh. "A hero? Don't you know, the same fate that all heroes share? Because they aren't willing to do what must be done, they will eventually lose the things they care about most. Just like you will." As if on cue, as Abaddon said this Alfred could hear a cry of pain coming from the arena outside that sounded distressingly like Arthur. Alfred's gaze flickered from the determined Abaddon to the shut gate. "So what will you choose? Let your scythe taste blood again and return to darkness? Or let everything you care about crumble before your eyes?"

Alfred's eyes flickered over his scythe. If he used it again, would he get consumed by his greed like he had before? He didn't want to take the risk but... 'Not to be used except with the utmost restraint' that is what he had been told by the Creator who had given it to him. So it was still meant to be used to its fullest extent. Taking the scythe of the reaper in hand, Alfred swung and stabbed the fallen angel through the heart.

Abaddon's breath caught as the sharp blade sliced through him and Alfred could feel the angel of death's strength flow into him. "... At last" he heard the fallen angel sigh as his skin turned slowly to ash and then dissolved into nothingness.

Alfred gasped and collapsed on the ground. He felt the bloodlust flood into him. This is what had driven him mad before. He had to fight it. Death shut his eyes and focused on his breathing. '_War. Victory. They are both counting on me. I need to help them.' _With these thoughts spurring him on Alfred fought down his desire and returned to himself. Sighing he took up the scythe and turned toward the gate. An odd sense of foreboding was coming from there.

Not wasting anymore time he raced to the gate and kicked the gargantuan doors open with the power he had accumulated from both Abaddon and War. He raced into the arena.

"England!" he called.

* * *

_"Oh bugger"_

England immediately crouched defensively and shifted his stance to be ready to sprint at the instant it became necessary. The demons in the surrounding stands were all shouting but he could barely hear them as he focused all his concentration on the dragon. The black beast growled under it's breath and took a thundering step forward which England matched, backing up a step. That way it continued. The dragon took a step to England's left and he reflected it with a step to the right. Always making sure to keep direct contact with its amber eyes. For a while that was all they did, circle one another, waiting for a sign of weakness.

Dragons were dangerous creatures. Every interaction they had was a fight for dominance. As such the minute you retreated or looked away they attacked. So England followed every move the dragon made to keep their distance the same. Dragon's had two weaknesses that he knew of to exploit. The first, its wings. The long appendages were protected by thick scales on top, but underneath they were soft and vulnerable. And more than that they also housed several major arteries that could cause the dragon to bleed out if struck. The second, were its eyes. If you could get a sword, a spear, or an arrow through a dragon's eye there was a good chance of getting to the brain behind it. So those were the places Arthur would have to focus on attacking. The only problem was how to do it.

The first thing he would need was that shield. If the dragon decided to throw a jet of fire in his direction his chances of surviving were next to nothing. He needed protection. But the shield was about a hundred yards away. So, taking a calculated risk England took a small step back towards the shield while the dragon stepped to his left. The reaction was immediate, the gargantuan beast leaped forward, cutting the distance between them in half and roared. The demons all cried out in anticipation and England froze. He stared into the amber depths with his own green pools and kept his expression as calm as possible. The dragon stepped forward and he took a step back. Another. And Another. This continued until he was about forty feet from the shield. He just needed a few seconds but the dragon had halted.

'_You can do this. On three. One... Two...' _He turned and sprinted. Not daring to look back as his eyes narrowed on the painted shield. Behind him Arthur could hear the dragon roar and the earth trembled like an earthquake as its immense weight thundered towards him. Never was he more thankful for his time as a pirate. Years of fighting on the deck of a ship having given him impeccable balance. Fifteen feet away. '_Almost there!' _The dragon ceased its advance and England knew it was preparing to breath fire towards him.

Behind him the dragon had reared up on its hind legs, wings spread and a bright orange glow growing at the back of it's mouth.

England dove forward, reached out, and grabbed the shield, slinging it onto his right arm and began casting a protection spell over the painted wood and steel.

A jet of fire rocketed towards him.

Arthur turned and crouched behind the shield just as the scorching flames reached him. The protection spell kept the heat of the flames from getting to him, but the force of the impact sent him flying back into the wall of the arena. He grunted in pain as his back made contact with the hard stone, but remained stationary with the shield keeping back the flames until the jet ceased. Arthur lowered the shield and pushed away from the wall to face the dragon again which was currently roaring in outrage that small creature in front of it had survived.

Shouts of "Kill him!" and "go on!" showered down from the stands but Arthur ignored them. The dragon, apparently deciding that its flames were useless charged forward towards him, jaws outstretched in the intent to swallow him whole. As it snapped its jaws forward England quickly danced away and struck it's snout with the shield and then with the sword, using his reinforcement spell to provide a stronger strike. Each blow sent the dragon reeling back before striking again. Time and again he continued to strike and parry until he was several paces away from the wall. '_My magic shouldn't be this powerful' _he realized, but did not allow himself to follow that train of thought. Blood seeped from his snake bite. The dragon charged.

"Come on then!" he shouted out to the beast. Arthur urged the dragon towards himself and just as he desired the dragon sped up its approach. Lowering its head, which was now cut up and bleeding, to lessen wind resistance. England turned and sprinted towards a corner of the wall and heard the dragon shift its course to follow him. He had to time this right. The dragon snapped its head forward and at the same instant Arthur jumped, using the two corners of the wall to propel himself upward and then jumped back, landing flat on his stomach atop of the dragon's head between two massive horns.

Noticing the added weight the dragon raised it's long neck once again and started to shake itself to try and dislodge the tiny nation. In his race to find something to anchor himself Arthur dropped his shield and wrapped his now free arm around one of the dragon's horns while the other clung desperately onto his sword. If he lost that he was as good as dead.

"Arthur look out!" Victoria's voiced pierced through to England and he was able to look up in time to see the dragon's spiked tail swinging towards him. The dragon swatted it's tail at him like a scorpion and Arthur moved quick to dodge as the long spikes came down where he had been standing before. '_Well at least the beast is stupid' _he remarked internally as he watched several thick, black scales rain down to the ground from where the dragon had injured itself. Again the dragon shook its head and this time, with nothing to hold onto England lost his footing. Luckily he rolled towards its neck instead of the fifty foot drop to either side. Arthur started to slide partially on his side but primarily feet first down the dragon's neck, using one hand to try and slow the quickly accelerating descent.

Just as he reached the base of the dragon's neck England's hand found purchase and he clung to it to stop his movement. '_A wing!' _Taking advantage of his new position War searched for a way to attack the soft flesh on the underside of the wing, which was luckily outstretched for the dragon to keep it's balance as it's head swung around to try and find him. Coming up with nothing else and running out of time he simply gripped hard and then swung down off the dragon's back and slashed the sword across the soft flesh before letting go and dropping down to the ground on the flat of his back. Temporarily stunned by the air rushing out of his lungs at the fall the island nation stared up at the wing he had wounded and noticed with some satisfaction that the wing was now bleeding greatly from the five foot laceration he had made. The monster screamed in pain.

"**If this continues. You will surely die"**

'_What?' _

For a moment Arthur allowed himself to be distracted by the odd voices but then his eyes widened in fear as he saw the spiked tail of the dragon appear and come swinging down towards him. "Shit!" he cursed and quickly log-rolled to dodge the tail and ended up crouched underneath the enormous beast. But this only served as a temporary respite before the dragon reared up again and backtracked to land about a hundred feet away from the former horseman and narrowed its eyes dangerously on Arthur. His wounded wings was still outstretched but his healthy one was now firmly pressed against its back probably to prevent any further harm. "Alright." Arthur muttered to himself. "Now what?" He saw the painted shield laying near the dragon's foot. The large reptile looked down and, also noticing the shield, raised its foreleg and brought it crashing down on the wood. Splintering it into wood chips. England audibly gulped.

The dragon was clearly very angry. It roared and snarled at War. Bearing its long teeth and clawing deep chasms into the ground. With a last snarl the black lizard charged forward again. Arthur made to dodge to one side but the dragon was learning. It turned slightly and smashed its tail down in the Brit's path to stop him from escaping and then swiped a large foreleg as big as England was tall towards his back, successfully swatting the nation several yards where he landed hard on the ground with a thud. The sword, Arthur's only weapon, went clattering away. War fought to prop himself up on his elbows and noticed with dismay that the sword was a few feet away. He glanced back once at the dragon which was rounding on him and started scrambling for the discarded blade. Just as he was about to reach it though, England felt a large, clawed paw reach around his torso, pinning his legs and one arm to his sides.

"What the-!" Arthur felt like he was being crushed in a car compactor as the dragon brought him to the ground. His chin landed hard on the ground and England could taste blood as he bit down on his tongue. Spitting out the red liquid and grunting in pain he reached out for the sword which was just within arm's length. But the dragon chose then to start pulling him in and Arthur cried out in frustration as he was flipped onto his back and pulled away closer and closer to the dragon's awaiting jaws. '_No! I can't die yet. There has to be a way!' _ Picking his head up and glancing around desperately for some sort of weapon Arthur noticed one of the dragon's dislodged scales laying nearby. He reached desperately and just barely grabbed hold before he was hoisted into the air and was suddenly nose to nose with the black beast.

The monster opened its jaws wide and started leaning in to swallow him. Thinking quick War spotted the small space between the dragon's claw and the rest of its scaly hide and brought the scale in his hand directly into it, causing blood to spurt out. The dragon screeched again and Arthur twisted the scale until the whole claw was broken off. He was dropped immediately. It was a good fifty feet drop and if he were not a nation he would have been dead. That being said England felt several things snap as he struck the ground and noticed with growing panic that he was now paralyzed. He must have injured his spine in the fall. So he just watched fearfully as the dragon slowly recovered from his attack. The dragon held its injured leg up close to its chest and started licking the wound with a large forked tongue. Glaring once again at the prone figure laying before it the dragon started its approach once again. Far slower and much more cautious than before. It circled England as he lay there several times. Hissing and eyeing him warily as if he expected another surprise.

It was agonizing to watch. Arthur felt like the dumb animal was toying with him. Here he was completely vulnerable, unable to even lift a finger and the dragon was looking at him like _he _was about to breath fire. "God damn it! If you're going to eat me do it!" he shouted, realizing he had just regained control of his head. So he was healing? But with such a severe injury it should have taken hours to regain this much? '_Is it... No.' _Arthur shook his head a little in denial.

Another several laps and the dragon neared even closer. England could feel more and more of his body returning to his control. His fingers twitched and he bent one of his legs. Now he was slowly and agonizingly trying to rise.

The dragon was in front of him. He made it up to his elbows and bent a leg beneath him. '_Just a little more. Just a little more and I can stand!' _Arthur prayed the dragon would hesitate just a bit longer. Then he would at least have another chance to try and save himself. He placed his hands down on the ground before him so that he was in a kneeling position and his whole body shook with effort as he tried to rise. The dragon was directly before him.

He heard the beast give a roar of triumph and shut his eyes tight as the beast's jaws descended on him. And then slowed down to a snail's pace. Glancing up in fear and confusion Arthur saw that the beast was still encroaching on him, but it had been slowed down to a near frozen state along with the everyone else present. England remained absolutely still and watched in stunned silence, unable to comprehend what was going on.

Suddenly, Arthur felt his snake bite throb painfully and he shouted in pain before clamping a hand over the now bleeding wound. A familiar sound of hissing reached his ears. '_The serpent.' _Slowly turning his head away from the slow-moving dragon and towards the hissing sound, he felt a growing pain in his head. Like something was trying to claw its way from his mind. When he was completely looking to the side Arthur made out a large grey snake with black patterns running along its back slithering towards him. Its' eyes were red. The snake coiled up beside him and fixed him with its' ruby gaze. A forked tongue shot out and back in.

"**Do you wish to be saved?" **the voice of the serpent entered his mind.

'_What?' _he questioned back in his mind.

The serpent tilted its head. "**You are dying Horseman. Give yourself to me and I can save you. As you are now you are too weak to fight Beleth's dragon. That is, unless you accept Lucifer's blessing." **The pain in Arthur's mind grew even more and his hands moved from his neck to grip the sides of his head. Still, he shook his head at the serpent's words.

'_No. I know what you are. I would rather die than let you have my body.' _The serpent snickered and slithered up to one of Arthur's legs and began to coil its way up. Moving slowly. '_Then again why shouldn't I? Pestilence could care less if I lived or died.' _England tried to move to push the snake away but his body was not responding. All he could do was hold his head as the pain there continued to grow.

"**Perhaps your life means little and less to you but what about your family? If you die this day what will become of Death? You are his punishment for rebellion. With you gone Pestilence will have no choice but to cast him into the Pit." **War's eyes widened as he thought of what the serpent suggested. "**And what of Victory? She will be left at the mercy of Beleth. Are you willing to let her suffer such a fate?"**

Arthur's gaze slowly traveled up to where he saw Victoria seated beside the fallen angel. Her face was one of fear and grief. Her mouth was moving as if she were calling out to him but he could not hear her. He could hear nothing really except the voice of the serpent. Still though, he resisted, shaking his head fiercely even as he began to scream in pain from the pain in his head. "NO! No shut up! I won't let you have my body!" The snake hissed angrily and in response Arthur felt the bite on his neck throb even more and the serpent coiled itself once around his waist before continuing up..

Something warm and wet trickled down Arthur's hands. It rained down his arms and into his hair. Staining the blond locks a familiar hue.

"**Give me your body and I swear to you by God and by the Devil I serve that Beleth will die and Victory shall be free" **the serpent gave its promise.

"You're lying! Beleth is Lucifer's ally. He isn't going to kill him." _'But what reason does he have to lie? I am beaten either way.'_

"**Beleth has his games but for you Lucifer has a greater purpose. The man is a fool, a pawn who thinks himself a king. For the body of War he would gladly sacrifice Beleth."**

Arthur forced open his eyes and stared up at the dragon's jaws descending on him. "You would make me a demon?"

The serpent wound up Arthur's chest and around one of his arms so that it could whisper it's words directly into Arthur's ear. "**Yes."**

"I won't do it"

Something small and hard rose from between his fingers on the sides of his head. The pain was so much Arthur bent forward on his knees and screamed.

"**Even if it would mean Death's redemption?"**

"What?" Even as he fought the effect's of the serpent's influence he could feel himself succumbing to the snake's words.

"**If you become a demon and Death overcomes you, Pestilence's curse shall be fulfilled will it not? You would be dead yes, but Death would be free."**

Arthur shook his head feebly from where he lay writhing in pain. The black horns now curling up on his head fully formed. "Stop. Please stop." He pleaded as his mind started clouding.

The snake left his ear for a moment to coil around his neck and whisper in the other. "**It will come to pass one way or another. Better for your dear brother to slay a demon than an ally no?" **War remained silent for a moment. He was going to die. That was obvious. If not at Alfred's hand then by the dragon. But if he became a demon first... he could rescue Victoria and allow America to be the hero by stopping him. He would be powerful again. All the strength that was stolen from him would be his again. He could kill Beleth once and for all.

"Perhaps... it would be better that way." The serpent tightened it's grip around Arthur's body and moved itself to the throbbing snake bite that was now bleeding even more. Arthur's vision was growing dark. He felt the snake's coils around his arms and legs and neck pulling him down into the depths of his own mind. He was losing control.

"**So then you accept?"**

'_You do not think that Death will kill me do you. You expect to be able to keep this body.'_

"**That will be our wager then."**

'_He will do what he must.' _The thought was meant more for self-assurance than to convince the serpent.

"**Perhaps. But enough, your time runs short. Say the words."**

'_Do what you will. As long as Victory is set free and Death given his chance to set right what I have done.' _Arthur let himself fall into darkness. Control of his body was wrenched from him as he felt the coils of the serpent wrap tightly around him. Leaving the now corrupted Horseman unable to move. Trapped within his own mind.

'_I'm sorry Alfred... Victoria...'_

* * *

Victoria watched in mute horror as the events unfolded before her. The dragon had thrown War to the ground and it had looked like it was about to devour him whole when something strange took place. Everything seemed to slow and she could see Arthur talking as if he was speaking to someone. His expression grew more and more tormented and desperate as it continued and finally she saw as his body began to change. His hands had shot to his head and soon enough blood began to pour down his fingers and stain his hair red. Two small, black horns sprouted from the sides of his head and curled upwards. These were soon joined by a spaded tail which sprouted from his lower back and began whipping wildly back and forth. And finally, two leathery bat-like wings appeared at his back to replace the vacant feathered ones. Now, her beloved War held the visage of a demon.

"War!" she called to him as his gaze turned in her direction. In his eyes she saw such pain and conflict that it broke her. Turning her head to Beleth she hissed at him. "What have you done?" But the fallen angel ignored her. He too was intrigued by what was happening to the former horseman.

When the transformation was complete Victoria found she could do no more than watch as time sped up and the dragon sped up its attack. But just as it was about to snap its jaws around Arthur the redhead lifted a hand and the dragon halted. "**Be still" **he commanded in a voice that was War's but also not. Like some twisted incarnation of his normally soft yet firm tone. At once the dragon heeded his command and even lowered itself to the ground in submission before the raised hand. Arthur smirked and then turned his head towards where Beleth and Victory were seated. He spread his newly formed bat-like wings and in the span of an instant was perched before the two on the railing of the balcony. Crouched like a gargoyle, with his tail whipping giddily back and forth.

"War" Victoria sighed in a tone indistinguishable between relief and horror. He was alive after all, but what was left of the horseman she loved she did not know. Arthur turned to her upon hearing his name and Victory was met by the gaze of two emerald eyes with dark pupils like slits. '_Demonic'_. He grinned at her and she could see how he had grown fangs.

"**Victory" **he called to her, and jumped down to the balcony before striding to where she sat, completely ignoring a still stunned Beleth. He came to stand over her and frowned when he noticed the silver collar around her neck that kept her from moving. A clawed finger came up to trace the embellishment. "**One such as you should not wear chains." **The finger curled under the collar and in one swift tug it was broken and fell to pieces on the floor. Victoria gasped as she felt control return to her. She stood quickly so that she was eye to eye with Arthur and lifted her hand to cup his cheek. The pale skin was cold as ice.

"Oh my love, what have they done to you?" she whispered quietly, tears welling behind her eyes. Arthur gave a puzzled look and cocked his head to the side in a bird-like fashion.

"**Done? What do you mean? I have my strength back. Is that not enough?" **he asked while raised one clawed hand up to cover the one on his cheek. Victoria shook her head at his misunderstanding and pulled her hand free, trying to keep her heart from breaking as his own followed after her only to fall, neglected, back to his side.

"You don't understand. You look-"

"**Like a demon?" **he asked with a frown. She nodded opening her mouth to speak before being cut of by Beleth who finally seemed to regain control of his vocal chords.

"So this is the effect of Lucifer's blessing. It suits you well War" he remarked, looking very pleased.

Arthur's demonic eyes narrowed at the sound of Beleth's voice and he turned to face the fallen angel. "What do you mean Lucifer's blessing?" Victoria demanded. Arthur did not turn to face her, but continued glaring at Beleth.

"He was marked with Lucifer's favor. And it has forged War anew" Beleth stated proudly, looking at the new War like some trophy. Victoria turned her shocked gaze back to Arthur and then she noticed the two puncture wounds on his neck. She gasped and one of her hands shot up to the wound. Arthur hissed and growled, _growled_ at her. Retreating back from her touch and moving his own hand over it.

"You were bitten! Tell me it wasn't-!"

"**The Serpent of Eden, yes."**

"Arthur that snake, it-!" she was cut off by his hands around her waist pulling her in and his mouth devouring hers in a rough kiss. She was shocked by it and was surprised by his fierceness. He shoved his tongue into her mouth and even as she pulled away he held her fast and did not give her room to breathe.

Finally, when he had seemed to have enough he pulled back. "**War love. My name is War not Arthur. Arthur was the name of a fool." **Victoria stared up in horror. Lucifer's pet snake was no ordinary beast. It twisted the soul. Took a person's darkest most sadistic thoughts and gave them life. Whispered lies to its' victim and tormented their minds until they gave in and let the darkness crush them. If Arthur had been bitten, then the man she loved. War was...

"No" she whispered, her hands going up to hold his face tightly. "No tell me it isn't true. Arthur is still there. You aren't him. He's trapped somewhere inside isn't he!" The demon before her said nothing to this, and only stared down at her with slightly irritated eyes.

His hands went up and gripped her wrists, trying to pry her away. "**Enough Victory. Why mourn the loss of someone so weak? He allowed his power to be stolen by his own brothers. He never deserved you. But I do. None will be as powerful as I. I will lay my fires across all the realms and bring them to heel. I will present the throne of Lucifer as well as the Creator to you as proof that I am superior. I am the true War." **As he spoke the demon that had possessed Arthur stepped back from Victory and filled his eyes with a mad glint that made the white Horseman shudder. His tone had gone from somber to egotistic by the end, holding his hands out as if to present something to her.

Still Victory shook her head. Unable to accept that Lucifer and Beleth had taken War from her and replaced him with... _this. _This was not Arthur. "Where is he? Arthur if you can hear me somewhere in there please. Please come back." War's expression turned sour and he shot his hand out to grab her chin.

"**I said enough. Why are you so concerned about that weakling? He lost. He gave in. I am War now." **

From somewhere behind them Beleth started snickering. "Ha ha, yes you will do nicely. Lucifer should be proud." The demon in War's body froze at the sound of the fallen angel's voice.

Victory saw a murderous look overcome him. "**Oh right. I almost forgot. I have an obligation to fulfill." **Rounding on Beleth the redheaded demon charged and pinned the fallen angel against the back of balcony.

"What are you-" he was cut off by War's spaded tail wrapping tightly over his mouth.

"**Oh just stop talking. You are such a fool. Did you think just because you had a hand in getting me this power that I would thank you? You are nothing but scum. Now I'm going to do what Arthur should have done long ago." **Not even waiting for an attempt at a response War drew back one hand and plunged it into Beleth's chest, wrapped it around the fallen one's heart, and ripped the organ from the man's chest cavity.

Victory gasped in shock by the show of brutality and the effect on Beleth was immediate. The muscles in his face slackened, turning his face into an expressionless mask and his body began to turn to ash. And as soon as War dropped the man's heart the fallen angel's body blew away in the wind. "**For you are dust, and to dust you shall return" **War recited.

"You killed him" Victory gasped.

"**Of course I did. I swore to that fool England that I would free you. Now that Beleth is dead, there is no one standing between us." **He gave a toothy grin that exposed his fangs.

"England!" a familiar voice called out from the gate where the dragon had entered from and Victoria turned towards it with the face of someone completely at a loss for what to do.

War's expression darkened considerably. "**Well, there is one thing." **The demon lifted one of Victory's hands and gave it a quick kiss. "**If you'll excuse me I have a traitorous American to deal with."**

Spreading his leathery wings Arthur alighted from the balcony to land roughly in the center of the arena across from the dark-haired Horseman before him. He landed on one knee, leaving a crater in his wake. Rising, War spread his dark wings wide and gave the horrified American a mad grin, showing off his fangs to their fullest extent.

Alfred, who had been holding his scythe at the ready lowered it slightly when he caught sight of his brother and his concerned expression quickly morphed to one of desperation as he took in the situation before him. War snickered in amusement.

"**Hello Death. Miss me little brother?"**

* * *

**Well, that isn't good is it. So yeah Abaddon is dead, Beleth is dead, and the dragon is taking a cat nap. This is going to be the final physical conflict of the story. We have Demon England v.s. Death America. (Bold is Demon England NOT Mordred) The feels are coming. So what do you think? Is Arthur still in there somewhere? Or will Alfred have to do his duty? Please tell me what you think. I swear this time it will help me update faster!**


	13. Chapter 13

**Here we go. A lot of stuff is about to happen so I hope it isn't too hard to follow. I am so done with these action scenes. It is so hard for me to write for some reason so I can't say I'll miss them. Thank you to everyone who has put up with them thus far! I appreciate it. So I hope you all enjoy!**

* * *

"_**Hello Death. Miss me little brother?"**_

Alfred couldn't comprehend the sight before him. This was Arthur? England? The man who had raised him twice and was the one he always looked up to? He didn't understand how this had happened. He was a demon? "E-England, what... what happened?" The redhead demon cocked his head and gave a sly grin.

"**What exactly are you referring to?" **he raised his hand in a gesture of confusion and started pacing before the dark-haired horseman. "**How I lost my wings? How I was cast out of my home?" **As he spoke War's expression turned darker and angrier. His tail started twisting and coiling in anger and his fingers started curling slightly to bare his claws. "**Or maybe how I became a great nation only to have my empire stolen? Or do you want to know how I became a demon?" **As he spoke America felt a deep ache in his heart grow. He could feel his very will to fight crumble before him. He couldn't fight Arthur. He had promised himself that never again would he hurt his brother. But now that brother was a demon. And by the waves of ill intent that were flowing from him, an especially powerful one at that.

"I-I didn't mean-"

"**Didn't mean what?" **Arthur asked with wide, crazed eyes.

"Death!" Alfred turned his desperate gaze towards where he heard his name called. Victory landed on the ground behind the demon. She was looking at War, but she was speaking to Alfred. "He was bitten by Lucifer's snake. This isn't him, he was possessed!" she assured.

War snorted and rolled his eyes. "**You misunderstand. I am not possessed. This **_**is **_**me. I simply had my eyes opened. That Arthur who meekly rolled over for Death's sake is gone." **

America raised a placating hand towards the demon. "Arthur come one. Snap out of it. Eris is right this isn't you. Whatever that snake did to you it's messing with your head. You need to fight it." It was probably pointless optimism that made Alfred think that maybe his words alone could reach past whatever it was that wore his brother's body. But that still didn't make his disappointment at open rejection any easier to bear.

England raised one hand up in the air. "**Oh I'm going to fight. And this time I am going to finish you off you ungrateful brat!" **Much to Death and Victory's displeasure a familiar sword materialized in War's hand and immediately regenerated to its former glory as soon as it made contact. The blade he outstretched in a gesture of challenge. "**I suppose I must thank you for bringing my sword along dear brother. If it hadn't been so close I might have had to fight you with some weak demon blade. But now that I have the Sword of Conflict this will be far more interesting."**

"Arthur stop" Victory ordered, but War simply looked over his shoulder to Eris and smirked.

Giving a sharp whistle the dragon roused itself. "**Sorry love, but this is a private party." **The demons in the stands who were up until then far too stunned by the quick succession of events to properly react were now in an uproar as the dragon staggered to its' feet. Arthur spread his wings and rose into the air so that he was hovering among the demons who were all staring at him. "**Listen up. Your leader is dead, you can either flee or you can follow me. What do you say?" **In response to the new demon's suggestion, the multitudes in the crowd silenced for a few moments before cheering in raucous agreement. "**Brilliant. With the Horsemen here, the gates to Paradise will be unprotected. You lot storm the gates while I deal with what's going on here." **The demons all took off immediately at the prospect of storming Heaven. The countless pairs of bat-wings darkened the sky as the flew off and made for the gates. And once they left War landed back on the ground and smiled when he saw the horrified expressions on Death and Victory. He turned one clawed finger on the dragon. "**And you. Keep Victoria busy will you." **The dragon roared but did amble its' way between War and Victory.

Eris glanced desperately between the demons flying away, the dragon, War, and Death. For once she seemed completely unsure of what to do. "America I-"

"Victory, I can't defeat that many demons on my own. You have to go. Stop them. I'll deal with War." Alfred threw a desperate glance towards Eris and she nodded. Death understood that the white horseman knew her duty, but whether or not she would trust him to beat some sense into their corrupted counterpart was another matter.

"**You can't chase us both love" **Arthur remarked with a cruel smile.

Before either of the two other horsemen could wonder at what he meant the wayward nation charged towards Alfred and America only just managed to bring his scythe up to block War's swing. But Death caught the glint in Arthur's eye too late and a spaded tail wrapped itself around the man's leg. Alfred found himself falling and landing on the flat of his back. As soon as Death was decommissioned War took off in flight, laughing madly and dragging a struggling America behind him.

* * *

"DEATH!" Victoria called after the youngest of her Horsemen as the dark-haired man was pulled up and out of the arena by Arthur's tail. She immediately began fluttering her wings to follow but was cut off when the dragon stepped in front of her. Growling in frustration Victory tried to fly around the beast, but was immediately swatted back down to the ground with a thud. "You annoying little-" the dragon roared and narrowed its massive eyes on Victory. The woman met the hard gaze with her own glinting violet one.

For a brief moment the two remaining figures stood unmoving, sizing one another up. And then the dragon began to charge. Victoria could feel the earth beneath her shake as the thundering steps of the monstrous creature neared her, but she did not falter. Remaining unmoved Eris raised her hands above her head and summoned to her hand her white bow. '_I guess the brat is useful for some things' _she begrudgingly admitted. As soon as the carved wood found its' place in her hand her shining armor appeared over her and her silver tiara returned to its' proper resting place. Training her eyes on her target Victory drew an arrow and pulled it back.

The dragon neared. "Fool" Victory muttered before letting her arrow fly. Not a hundred feet from where she stood the arrow found its target and sank its' entire shaft through the dragon's eye, and the beast collapsed dead to the ground. Sliding forward to land just inches from where the horseman stood. She spared but a moment to cast a distasteful look down at the dead monster at her feet. "Did you forget that I am Victory?" she asked, not expecting an answer, before taking flight and speeding off towards the horde of demons bent on storming the gates of Paradise.

Soon enough she closed the distance between herself and the demons. Victoria dove down before them and landed just before the iron gates that would lead to the middle ground where the Horsemen resided. The demons ceased their advance as they caught sight of her. Hisses and growls reached her ears, but Victory simply leveled the demons before her with a glare so ferocious and rage filled, that they silenced. A cold wind stirred.

"You know" she began, her voice oddly calm. "I used to hate the fact that there were those who thought me evil. Who saw that I was Strife and Chaos and marked me as paramour to the Devil. Now though, now I think it's time I remind you all just why I am the most dangerous of all the Horsemen. Why I am feared across the three realms." As she spoke her own pupils narrowed into slits just as War's had and the white of her eyes turned black. "You turned War into a demon. The man I love. I will show you no mercy." Clouds gathered above and a flash of lightening struck between the horseman and the demons before rain began falling. "An existence that walks the line between the angelic and the demonic." She raised a hand and the ground shook as if an earthquake had started. A chasm opened up beneath a great many of the assembled demons, swallowing them into a dark abyss. Those who had escaped all looked about in fright, and shivered when they met the eyes of the woman before them. Some turned to flee but a fierce wind cut them off as if they had entered the center of a tornado.

"T-there are still many of us. We are Legion!" one proud, or perhaps exceptionally stupid demon claimed and Victoria chuckled in a voice like thunder.

"What does it matter how many foes are laid against me? I am the White Horseman. I am Chaos." She took a step forward and beat her wings, causing several dozen demons to burn into ash by the light cast by her feathers. "I am Strife." She reached out and gripped the demon who had spoken by the neck and raised him up so that he was dangling above the ground. "I am Conquest." The demon struggled futilely against her hold as the others looked on in fear. "I am Victory." She squeezed and the demon erupted into ash. Slowly, as if to further the tension and fear those about her felt Victoria turned her head to face the countless demons before her. "And I will slaughter each and every one of you with my own hands before my rage is sated and it will still not be enough." She dropped her bow and arrows from her back and charged headfirst into the demons' midst. The demons screamed in terror and the storm grew in intensity to mask their cries.

* * *

"Let me go!" Alfred called up to the demon who was still dragging him along by his leg as the two flew off away from the coliseum. Dark clouds were gathering but Arthur didn't seem to care. The demon cackled in amusement. Death struggled to get free but didn't need to for long because not a minute later War let him go and Alfred was suddenly falling to the ground, rolled for a bit and then came to a stop at the edge of a slope with a thud. Alfred struggled quickly to his feet just as the skies opened up and rain began to pour down over him. "Arthur?" he called out. He heard someone land behind him and turned to see his demon brother. America sighed in dread, his face likely showing his desperation.

"**You don't want to fight me" **the demon remarked with some interest.

Alfred shook his head. "Of course I don't. But I suppose I'm not fighting the real Arthur am I?" The demon raised an inquisitive brow. "I mean, you're just a demon wearing Arthur's body. And I am going to destroy you to save him." The demon stared at America in confusion for a moment before understanding seemed to dawn on him and he started to laugh with a sly grin.

"**Oh I see. You don't realize that War and I are one and the same. It's me brother, not some impostor. Here, look for yourself. Where is my thread of life?" **The demon spread his arms so that Alfred had full view of him. America frowned, but still tapped into his powers as Death to search the demon's body for his thread of life. Of course the most obvious place would be to search over the heart. But that would be where Arthur's thread of life was, and he didn't want to hurt England. So instead he roved over the rest of Arthur's body. But to his growing concern no thread of life became evident. "**Come now, you know where it is. You're just afraid to look." **It was true, he was afraid. But he did need to know for sure. So swallowing his dread Death turned his gaze to Arthur's heart.

The color drained from Death's already pale face. There, intertwined with the beating heart of the Horseman were two threads of life. One belonging to War and the other to the demon. And they were indistinguishable. "But-"

"**So you see, we are one and the same. I am everything he was and more. All his strength, without his weakness." **As if for demonstration, that moment was when the demon decided to attack. This time, Alfred was ready though and their respective weapons clashed several times before locking close together. Rain began to pour from the sky and a slight rumbling of thunder sounded from above. Both beings grunted in effort as they tried to push one another back, both blinking away droplets of rain that fell on their eyes and slowly began to soak and weigh down their clothes.

"I-I'll still find a way to save you Arthur. Just keep fighting it" Alfred managed to get out while they were in close quarters. The demon frowned and pushed away, spreading his dark wings a bit. Both combatants staggered back until they were some ten or so paces from one another.

Eyeing the determined look in Alfred's eyes, the demon growled and spat on the ground between them. "**What makes you think I need saving?"**

Alfred was the first to charge this time. It felt like an eternity as they fought. They traded countless blows before backing away from one another again. "I wasn't talking to you. I was talking to Arthur" they collided again. War executed a few blocks before managing to get inside the reach of Alfred's scythe and landed a sharp blow to the Horseman's gut. America gasped and staggered away.

The demon laughed and shook his head with exasperation. "**You are so stupid. Don't you understand that the Arthur you are referring to no longer exists? Don't you get that the only reason I am even here is because he hated you? He has always hated you. You, the greedy little bastard who cost him everything!" **Lightning flashed and the rain picked up even more as they locked blades again. Alfred shook his head in denial.

"No! You are not him. He would never say these things." As they continued to fight the storm grew fiercer, harsher. The winds whipped about like a hurricane, and the rain pelted down on them as if they stood under a waterfall. Alfred managed to land a swipe across one of the demon's arms. The redhead hissed in pain and struck the pommel of his sword into Death's face. Sending the young horseman down to the ground.

"**Point is. You can't just kill one of us. If I go, whatever's left of your brother goes too. But that's the least of your worries. Because now you die" **the demon charged and swung down on Alfred. But the growing layer of mud on the ground slowed him down and Death managed to roll out of the way and get back to this feet. Just barely blocking each of Arthur's swings.

As the lightning flashed once more the demon swung his sword once again and Death just barely deflected it again with his scythe. High, low, high again they traded blows until finally the younger of the two lost his grip and the Scythe of the Reaper went tumbling down the steep slope. Alfred only spared the slightest glance at his lost weapon as he quickly backed away from the still armed demon. "Arthur please!" he called out through the howling winds. But all that he was met with was the dark smile of the demon's lips.

With one hand War swung the sword of conflict but Alfred was quick to catch his sword hand with his slightly larger palm. Growling in frustration Arthur threw a punch with his right, but that was caught by Death as well. For a few brief moments the two stood upon the narrow slope, hands locked above both their heads as they pressed each other for the advantage. Thunder boomed and it seemed as if the sound came from right over their heads. Both fighters lost their concentration for a split second, but that was enough. Neither would have been able to say who it was who lost their footing, but with their hands joined as they were both were sent tumbling down the muddy slope into a deep valley.

Alfred lost his grip on Arthur quickly and felt himself tumble head over heels and on his side over rocks and mud and other debris before coming to a stop in a deep puddle of mud. Alfred felt that some of the bones that made up his wings had been crushed and split by the tumble. He wouldn't be able to fly for a while until they got a chance to heal. The horseman forced himself to rise to his hands and knees. He had caught sight of Arthur landing not far from him but when he turned his head up to look there was no one there. Only the Sword of Conflict lay on the ground. His confusion only lasted for a short time though because then he felt a sharp kick to the side of his face that sent him sprawling onto his back. Alfred coughed, trying to catch his breath. "A-Arthur" he tried to speak but was silenced with another sharp kick to his side.

"**Shut up" **came the hissed response. The thunder and lightning was beginning to die down but the rain remained. "**You think you have any right to speak?" **Alfred fought once again to his feet, breathing heavily, and noticed that the demon was pacing quickly. Circling him and glaring with such hatred and contempt that it made the horseman want to shrivel up and die. **"After everything you've done****!" **Arthur charged with an open fist and while Alfred managed to block he didn't have the strength to stop the second punch which landed in his gut.

"I never meant to..." Alfred tried to deny Arthur's words but the demon would have none of it. At the punch to his stomach Death's legs started to falter once more, but War kept grip on his black bomber jacket's lapel to pull him up deliver another blow to his face. America staggered and tried to throw a punch of his own but it was caught by England this time and the shorter man delivered instead a painful knee to the other's likely already broken ribs. This time, when Alfred stumbled, Arthur let the wounded horseman fall to his knees, holding his abdomen.

The demon sighed with fatigue and wiped his sweat and rain beaten brow. Both men were heaving with exhaustion. "**The serpent was right about one thing" **the demon said. Alfred turned his face up with a look of questioning. "**I have more power now than I've had since I was cast down to Earth because of you." **The slight smile that had spread at the mention of power faded right back down to a scowl. "**Do you have any idea how long I've waited to have the power to put the mighty United States in his place?" **

Arthur charged and, after steeling himself, Alfred rose to the challenge. As the demon threw his first punch the horseman blocked and struck with one of his own. From there it turned into a long and bloody fistfight. Fists were thrown, kicks delivered. It no longer resembled a fight between two greatly powerful beings, but two men. It was simply two brothers, fighting to the death with nothing but their bare hands. Then finally, one fell. War gripped the collar of Death's bomber jacket and crashed their two heads together. Alfred's knees buckled at the strike and he landed on the ground before his glaring older brother. "T-the real Arthur, would never say those things. He has no reason to-"

"**No reason!" **Arthur pounced on top of Alfred, straddling the horseman so he could not rise and delivered a fierce punch to the side of his face. Gripping Alfred's dark hair, Arthur lifted his head slightly to to scream "**I have every reason!" **before throwing it back down again. Alfred did not miss how the demon stopped referring to Arthur as a separate individual. "**You took EVERYTHING from me!"** Arthur threw another punch to Alfred's face. "**I had a family!"** A punch with his left arm. "**I had love!"** a punch with his right again. "**Why wasn't it enough for you?" ** Left. Arthur's voice was breaking. Sounding with less anger and more pain. "**You were my BROTHER!" ** Right. "**I loved you!"** Left. The rain had stopped, Alfred could no longer feel the steady pattering all along his body. And yet... and yet he could still feel water dripping onto his face. Just on his face.

Cracking one swollen and battered eye open Death tried to speak through War's continued barrage. "A-Arthur I-" another punch and Alfred was silenced again.

"**SHUT UP!"** Right. "**What was missing?"** Left. "**Why weren't we enough for you?"** Arthur punched him again with his right fist but this time the blow landed softly. It was like the redhead demon was losing the will to fight. "**We were a family! I loved you so much. Right up to the end. I thought... I thought we could go home."** Arthur's hands fell and bunched back into fists on America's now black bomber jacket. His head was bowed so that soaked red bangs covered his slit eyes, but as he spoke Alfred could still see his brother's fangs. "**Even on Earth... Even when I knew that you were destined to betray me I thought... Right until we were standing there holding muskets at each other I th-thought that we could just- we could just go h-home." **

As England's voice began to waver the drops of water falling on Alfred's face began to fall harder. It was only then that Death realized that the demon was crying. It broke his heart. "Arthur, I'm sorry."

A sad laugh came from the demon and Arthur threw another punch, with a little more force but still weaker than before. "**You're sorry."** Arthur let his head roll back to stare up at the sky and sat back on his heels over Alfred's chest. "**Of course you're sorry. And you know what? That's what breaks me the most. I know you mean it."** His laughing died only moments later and faded to silence. "**It breaks my heart every time you say you want to protect me. To be my hero."** A single chuckle escaped Arthur's lips that sounded strangled and pained. "**B-because I know that you can't be. Because you are going to kill me instead."** One of Arthur's hands went to rest over his heart. "**And it hurts. I-It hurts so much." **

Arthur's head bent forward once again but Alfred turned away. Unable to look the broken man above him in the face. Yet he could still feel England's tears upon his cheek. "I'm sorry" he whispered so quietly that not even Arthur could hear.

"**What did I do that was so wrong? I made mistakes, yes. But why? DAMMIT WHY? It's not FAIR!"** Arthur struck him again, but this time instead of a punch it was simply a fierce slap to the face that left scratches along Death's cheek from Arthur's claws. The slap forced the horseman to look the demon in the face. And in that face, past the fangs, the horns, and the demon eyes America still saw his brother. Deep down, past the anger and the pain England was still there. He had to be. Why else would the demon cry? Somewhere deep down. Somewhere buried so deep that War himself didn't know it was there, Arthur still felt resentment and hurt from Death's multiple betrayals. This demon was the culmination of all that hurt given power to overrule the rest of him. The demon held the body, but it was from Arthur that the tears flowed.

"I-It wasn't you. Back then, it wasn't you it was me. I let darkness control me, turn m-me into something I never wanted to be. And... and now that same thing is happening to you." It was a desperate attempt to appeal to the real Arthur. And it didn't seem to work at all. America tried to raise his left hand, but War's spaded tail wrapped itself around his wrist and wrenched the offending limb back back down. "Arthur-"

"**Don't."** The anger in the demon returned. "**Don't you dare touch me."** Lifting himself up slightly, War raised his arms and summoned the Sword of Conflict once again back to his hand. "**This time I'm going to finish what that weakling couldn't. I don't need you to be my hero. I am going to save myself by killing you here and now."** Arthur lifted the blade as high as he could from his position on Death's chest. With the point of the blade facing down towards the horseman's heart.

Alfred saw the glint of the sword's steel and felt fear creep into him. But also great sadness. Was this what Arthur had felt when he saw Mordred riding past the gates to Earth? When England received America's declaration? It hurt... so much. Just like he had said. "I'm sorry" Alfred said, forcing himself to look at Arthur and not the sword hanging over him. "I'm sorry for everything, but Arthur... you need to fight this. I know it hurts but you need to fight this thing inside you. Don't make the same mistake I did."

The demon in Arthur's body frowned. **"Would you just shut up!****? The Arthur you knew is dead. I am War now, and this time I won't let you betray me. I am going to break fate by killing you first."**

Alfred ignored the discouragement in the words the demon spoke. But something did trigger inside him. The demon started to swing the sword down, but then froze when Alfred spoke. "You know" the American continued as the point of the sword hovered just inches above his heart. "A man I admired more than anything... my hero. He once told me that we might not be able to change fate, but destiny is of our own making. That if it was a man's fate to die, then better it be for the right reasons than the wrong. Don't you agree with that, England?" '_There' _he saw it. Something flickered in the green eyes of the demon.

"**No."** The demon shook his head. "**I don't care. I-"**

"Then why are you hesitating?" Alfred asked, this time directing the thought to the monster holding the sword.

Arthur's eyes widened in realization that the sword in his hand was shaking. He lifted it again and tried to bring it down but still, it would not lower itself past a certain point. As if some invisible force were keeping it from touching the younger horseman. "**I'm not hesitating. I-"**

"You're crying" Alfred pointed out.

The demon shook his head. "**No! It's the rain!"**

"It stopped raining long ago England."

Once again the demon's actions stilled. For the first time seemed to realize that the drops of water falling on Death's face were coming from him and not the sky. "**No. No this isn't right. I don't care. I'm not that pathetic, useless-"**

"He's not pathetic!" Alfred shouted with a frown. Even with his face as battered and bloody as it was he still managed to look stern. "He is the strongest person I know. Always has been, and always will be. And I know he can fight this. Arthur, I know you can beat this."

The last of the walls broke. Those green eyes that he had looked into all his life collapsed into conflict and confusion. The blade in his hands shook even more as the demon raised it and tried to bring it down again but couldn't get any closer than an inch from his heart. Death could feel his brother fighting back for control.

The flood of tears increased from above him and finally, with a choked sob the sword dropped from his hands, landing uselessly beside Death's scythe. "**I-I can't." **The slit pupils in War's eyes shrunk back down to their normal, round shape and America saw England return. Still wearing the appearance of a demon Arthur gasped and stumbled off Alfred and onto his feet. "A-Alfred?" he stuttered out in horror.

'_Now!' _ Not waiting to see if this was simply a temporary return, Death acted. He swiftly reached down and took hold of a blade. The Sword of Conflict. And climbed to his feet. Alfred shut his eyes tightly, wrapped his free arm around Arthur in a tight embrace, trying to convey as much comfort as he could, and stabbed the blade through his brother's heart. Right through the thread of life the demon shared with War.

Arthur's breath caught in his throat. His expression could have been a number of things. Shock, fear, anger, betrayal. But whatever it was, Alfred did not see. He kept his eyes securely shut, and the instant he felt the end of the sword pierce through Arthur's back he withdrew it again, earning another pained gasp from the man. America caught England as he fell. Wrapping his second arm around him and sinking to the ground with Arthur in his arms whispering "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry" over and over and over again.

Death could almost hear War's shuddering heartbeat reverberate in his ears. Slowing, growing fainter every second. He rocked back and forth with one hand carding through the soft red hair of his elder while he pressed Arthur's head into the crook of his neck and shoulder. Tears rolled their way down his cheeks. "Big brother I'm so sorry." Alfred wanted to die. He wanted more than anything to die and not have to face what was coming. Finally, he opened his eyes and looked up to the grey skies above. The rain had stopped, but the sun had yet to appear. "I'm sorr-" a hand went to the back of his head and the words silenced.

"It's okay Mordred." Arthur's soft voice reached his ears and the tears began to spill anew. "It's okay."

At the sound of Arthur's voice Alfred pulled away slightly and gently laid the redhead down. "Arthur? Arthur I'm so sorry but it was the only way to kill the demon inside you. I'm sorry." Alfred reached down and took War's cheek in one of his hands while the other pressed on the bleeding wound over his heart. Death kept glancing between the dimming light in Arthur's eyes and the bleeding wound. Unsure which to keep a closer eye on. Arthur was gasping lightly, trying to hold Alfred's watery gaze.

"It's okay. You brought me back... That's enough" War's eyes held Death's unwaveringly for a moment longer before dimming completely into unseeing green orbs and Arthur's skin began turning to ash the minute that light died.

"Arthur?" Alfred shook the man a little, lightly slapping his cheek and trying to rouse him unsuccessfully. "Arthur!" Death gave the elder horseman one last hard shake before letting the truth sink in. War was dead. Pestilence's curse fulfilled. Alfred slowly retracted his arms from Arthur, and slid his hand over the Brit's eyes to slide them shut. Trying to ignore how his hands became coated in the grey ash.

For a moment America tried remaining strong. He shut his eyes, bit his lip, and wrapped his arms around himself in a silent attempt to hold himself together. But in seconds that resolve broke and he started to weep. He pulled his legs up to his chest and buried his head in his knees as his shoulders rocked, and his cries echoed across the empty valley. An unknown amount of time passed and the only thing that the world power and horseman was aware of was his own grief and the aching emptiness in his heart.

His mourning went on for some time until a voice was heard. "Death's tears. I never thought I'd see the day" a familiar voice called to him from a small distance away. Alfred raised his tear-stained face and turned to meet the intruder with as much of a scowl as he could manage while water continued to spill from his eyes.

"Pestilence" he gave a half-hearted snort. "Of course, now is when you choose to show yourself." As always the hooded Horseman gave no indication of reacting to Death's words. Instead he stepped closer until he was overlooking the dead body of War and standing beside Death.

Alfred stared up at his elder twin. "Are you satisfied?" he asked bitterly. "Is this what you wanted? I killed my own brother. I-"

"You slew a demon who could very well have lead the legions of Hell against Paradise" he interjected.

Rising swiftly to his feet Death came within inches of the other Horseman, somewhere in the back of his mind wondering how even this close he could not see his face beneath the cowl. "Don't say that. I killed my brother. I stabbed Arthur through the heart and he died in my arms. Now answer me. Are. You. Satisfied?"

Pestilence made a humming sound and the knelt down beside War. Taking a hand and placing it over the dead man's heart. "You have changed" he muttered, ignoring Alfred's inquiry. "More than I had ever dared hope."

Death looked away and made a huffing noise. "So?"

"I had honestly thought that you would never learn. But he" Alfred turned to see Pestilence gazing down at War. "He always knew that you would become great. That living on Earth would remind you of the man you could be. And he proved me wrong." There was fondness in his voice.

"Why are you telling me this?" Alfred asked in a pained voice.

"Because he never will."

They remained in silence for a bit. "You could have done something. You could have come and made a difference." Pestilence shook his head.

"I was needed elsewhere." Alfred scoffed.

"What else could you have possibly have been doing that-"

"Keeping balance. As is my duty." The two brothers stood beside the third silently for a moment before Alfred knelt back down and took War's hand. "It is not the end Death."

Alfred sniffled a little and looked up to Pestilence. "What do you mean?" he asked in a pained voice.

"War will rise again" Pestilence decreed.

Death's mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water and in his eyes was the thinly veiled hope of a man who feared to dream too much. "W-what do you-"

"You told me once. That the Scythe of the Reaper could never kill you. The weapon of a Horseman will only ever serve to strengthen its' master Alfred." America's head shot to the face he could not see beneath the hood. Pestilence never referred to any of the other Horsemen by their chosen names. To call Death Alfred...

"You don't mean..." his voice trailed off.

"Tell me brother, can you feel War's power flowing through you any longer?" Alfred took a moment. It was true, the warmth that ran through his veins from having absorbed the essence of War was no longer there. America had thought it was because England was dead. But if what Pestilence said was true. Glancing back down to War's face Alfred saw the ash that had covered his face begin to blow away in the wind. Leaving the untouched flesh of the Horseman beneath. The small horns began to fade away from his head and his tail disappeared in the breeze.

"It can't be" he whispered in disbelief.

"You stabbed him with the Sword of Conflict. Reconnected England with the weapon of War. You returned to him the power you stole and now our brother is fighting the poison coursing through his veins to return to us." Pestilence reached down and pulled Death back up to a standing position as the two watched the gentle breeze blow away the ash the was shed from Arthur's body. And when the last remnants scattered, War opened his eyes.

"Arthur!" Alfred knelt back down immediately and helped his brother to rise to a sitting position. Wondering at how when he grasped the other's hand he felt that familiar warmth that had been missing for so long. "Pestilence thank you!" Death turned but saw that the third Horseman had already gone.

"Death." At the sound of Arthur's voice the other turned back to meet the gaze of a fully revived War. A brief moment of speechlessness passed between the two brothers before Alfred wrapped his arms around the other and crushed War to his chest in a fierce hug, which the other happily returned.

"War" Alfred buried his head in the crook of Arthur's neck. Enjoying how he felt protected in his brother's embrace. Just as he did when he had been a child. The two stood, not bothering to let each other loose.

The clouds broke to reveal the sun just as someone landed nearby. The reunited brothers turned to see a figure with silver hair and nearly completely stained with demon blood from head to toe. "A-Arthur?" Victory asked in a voice filled with hope.

"Victory" The white horseman dropped her recovered bow from her hands and raced towards the others crashing together as the arms of all present wrapped around each other. Clinging to one another as those who feared to be parted again.

Alfred had never felt so happy as the trio shared their group hug. This was right. Cheesy in some ways perhaps, but right nonetheless. This was how it was meant to be. His family was together again, and he would do anything to keep it that way.

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**Yay for emotional release! I hope that bit of catharsis with America and England wasn't too out of the blue. I wanted them to get some buried feelings out during their fight since the demon basically embodied all of those deep inside Arthur. Oh and family reunion! Well, minus Pestilence but he was never one for that kind of thing anyway. I wonder what he was doing this whole time? Oh, and just so it's clear, because Death stabbed Arthur with the sword of conflict he did sever the demon's thread of life but the sword transferred War's powers back to Arthur at the same time so that is why he lived. Anyway, next chapter should be the last one before the Epilogue. I say that of course but we'll see once I start writing it. Please tell me what you think. It will help me update faster!**


	14. Chapter 14

**So we arrive at the end of the actual story. There is an Epilogue coming though so don't completely check out. Thank you for everyone who has reviewed and followed up with this story. You guys are amazing. And I am glad people are curious about who Pestilence is. I was wondering if anyone would. His character underwent a lot of changes when I was writing the outline to this story. You'll see though. If not in this chapter than in the Epilogue. Oh, and if you thought things were going to calm down now, you should know by now that in this story nothing is ever simple. Okay, I'm nervous about this but I still hope you Enjoy. P.S. A brief reminder that _italics _means flashback.**

* * *

"How does it feel?" Alfred asked of the man standing before him. They were back in War's study. The angels had made quick work of restoring the place after Beleth had wrecked it. Now, it all seemed like some bad dream. Death observed with a smile as War looked himself over in the standing mirror. Flexing his black wings on his back and admiring their glow from the reflective surface.

Turning away from the reflective surface Arthur raised a brow at the other horseman. "How does what feel?"

"Having them back again. Your wings?"

England hummed in thought and gave the discussed wings a test flap before smiling at them through the mirror. "It's almost indescribable. I feel... whole. But at the same time that's not enough of an explanation." Arthur turned away from the mirror again and spared a glance over the mantle of the fireplace where his sword, now restored, hung once again. "I suppose I have you to thank for that."

Alfred blushed slightly and scratched the back of his head in embarrassment. "I guess it was the least I could to since it was my fault you lost them in the first place." Death's expression turned ashamed and War was quick to send a punch to the man's arm. "Ow! What was that for?" Alfred asked, rubbing the now bruised limb. Now that Arthur was War again he found himself in the position of being weaker than the older man. Quite an odd scenario for the American.

"That was for dwelling on the past. Don't think about it too much." England smiled up at his pouting brother and America couldn't help but soon return it with a hug.

"Oh God it's so good to have you back" he sighed as Arthur returned the embrace.

England laughed, and pat the man on the back. "I never left you idiot. Now come on let's go. We shouldn't keep Victoria waiting."

Alfred's smile died a little but he nodded. "Fine, but are you sure? Everything might have been settled but I still don't want to have to face her. It's just awkward now."

Arthur sighed as they both exited the study. "Yes Alfred. You still have to face her. But don't worry so much, she isn't angry with you anymore. She is just happy that she has her family back. She won't do anything to ruin that. Now why don't you go and see her before me. I still want to speak with Leo and Ariel before they return to Paradise. I will meet you shortly." With that, Arthur turned down the opposite hallway and disappeared around a corner. Only once America could no longer see the head of scarlet hair did the horseman turn and stalk towards another section of the Keep where he knew Victory would be waiting.

It only took Alfred a few minutes to get there seeing as he now knew his way around perfectly, but still he couldn't help but take his time. Partly because he really didn't want to be alone with his elder sister and partly because of the novelty of really seeing his home for the first time in almost three centuries. Still, he couldn't linger forever and eventually Death came to a set of double doors which opened on their own at his approach.

Inside, was the Waiting Chamber. A marvelous rounded hall that was comprised of a stained-glass dome painted with scenes of battle in vibrant colors that cascaded down when the sun hit them just right. Around the perimeter of the room, large stone columns were set up to support the massive window. Each bleached a perfect white with green vines climbing up their sides. And every now and again one of the vines' leaves would be red instead of green, suggesting the coming of autumn. The floor was a smooth cream marble with small accents of blue that spanned across the floor. And in the center of the chamber was a massive table that was circled by four thrones. The one farthest from the entrance was carved of white wood and shaped almost to resemble the side of a tree. To the right of this throne, was a throne of wood stained with a deep red varnish. To the white throne's left was one of painted black wood and the last, which was directly before Death was grey like ash. Eris, was standing behind the white throne when he entered. Staring, with her back to Alfred, at a large painting of their four horses Triumph, Cerise, Plague, and Hades, racing together across an open field.

"It feels like it's been too long doesn't it? Since we've all been gathered together?" she asked suddenly. Turning to glance over her shoulder at Death. Her arms were crossed and she held them as if she were cold. While she had a smile on her face, for some reason her eyes seemed sad. Their violet irises slightly dim.

Alfred swallowed slightly. "Yeah I suppose it does. But I guess it has only been three centuries for me. And I didn't even remember this life during that time. For you and War, it's been thousands of years." The pale horseman dipped his head a little in shame as he admitted this. Eris turned herself back towards the painting.

"I forgive you" she said quietly.

Alfred's eyes shot open as wide as saucers when this was said. He looked back up to stare at the back of Victoria's head. "Y-You... forgive me?"

"That is what I said isn't it?" she snapped back, still not looking at him. "And before you ask, no Arthur didn't ask me to." Alfred smiled.

"Then why?"

Once again she turned to face him and slowly walked around the table so that she was standing beside him. "Because I saw your tears. You cried when you thought War was dead. Even when the two of you were cast down to Earth you did not allow yourself to weep." She ghosted a hand over his cheek where the tear-tracks had been left. "And besides," she stepped back again. "It might have been because of you that we were torn apart but it is also thanks to you that I have this time with you both. And I guess that deserves some gratitude. So thank you."

Alfred smiled a little and looked back down to the table. He couldn't help but laugh. "Round huh?" he remarked with a grin and a raised eyebrow.

Eris snorted in derision. "Where do you think that part of the story came from? I was glad it wasn't forgotten because of all the drama with you. It took me long enough to make it" she admitted with a wry smile.

"You built this? I always thought..." he trailed off. The table had been built before he had been found. Even still he had thought for some reason that it had been War who had carved it.

Victory shook her head. "No, War wasn't the one to make this. Actually I carved it for him." Alfred sent her a questioning look. Eris gestured for Death to take a seat on the grey throne across from her white one and then proceeded to follow him into a seated position. "We were alone here for a long time you know. War and I. Time held very little meaning then. But if I were to guess it was probably several thousands before we were told that you and Pestilence were soon to be found. And in that time for a while he refused to accept that I loved him."

Alfred gaped at that from across the table. With his memories returned, Death knew just how deeply Arthur and Victoria loved one another. They were nearly inseparable. The thought that at any point in time he did not believe that she loved him was inconceivable. "Really?"

Eris chuckled a little to herself and rested her cheek on her first which was propped up on the table. "Really. He used to say that it wasn't his place. That because I was the forerunner of the Horsemen that I should not love him. He thought himself as nothing more than my subordinate." She smoothed her free hand over the surface of the table.

"I can imagine how long it took you to convince him your feelings were genuine. He _is _stubborn" Alfred offered and the two horsemen shared a knowing smile.

"Oh you have no idea. But I am stubborn too. And I always get what I want. Eventually I made this." She gestured to the table. "If nowhere else, here" I told him. "Here we are equals. No first or last. We would be side-by-side. It still took a while but eventually he understood. It was that day actually that we first kissed." A far away look grew on her face at that. Alfred imagined that she was remembering. "And you know what also happened for the first time right here?" she asked slyly with a raised brow. When Alfred met the look with confusion she continued. "When two people love each other very, very much-"

Alfred clapped his hands over his ears. "Lalalala I get it! Please don't give me the details!" he shook his head to rid himself of the image. He really didn't want the intimate details of his brother's love life. Eris giggled but did not elaborate further. "Ugh, I don't think I can touch this table anymore" Death moaned.

The two lapsed into a silence born of reminiscing. It was a comfortable silence though, with a slight underlying sadness to it. Alfred's gaze was turned to the right and his pale blue eyes widened when he saw something in the far corner of the room. "It's still here" he whispered in slight wonder as he got up and quickly made his way over. Eris followed his path but did not rise or say anything to it. Near the curved wall of the room he saw small carved wooden figures. A horse, a bear, a lion, and an eagle. "I'd figured you'd burn them or something" Alfred admitted with a relieved smile. When he had still been a child here, he would play with those figurines while the elder horsemen conversed on various things at the table.

"I would never get rid of those. That was shared project you know." Eris mentioned. At some point she had come to crouch behind Alfred as he took each figurine in his hands one at a time. "I made the horse, and the bear was for Pestilence when he was still a child. He always liked the creatures for some reason. Playing with those was the only time he really acted like a child." America felt around the pieces mentioned in his palm before then placing them down to looking over the remaining two.

"War made these though didn't he?" he only half asked.

"Yes. Pestilence had outgrown them by the time we found you. But you didn't like playing with his, so Arthur made those others for you. You liked eagles so he made one for you. Then later you asked him to make a lion so that the eagle would have a friend. It was quite cute actually. You kept tugging on his pant leg and begging him to make another until he finally caved." Thinking of the memory brought warmth to Death's heart.

Alfred couldn't help but think of the irony as well. An eagle and a lion. "I even used to pretend that Arthur was the lion and I was the eagle. I guess some of that carried over to when we became nations." Eris hummed in agreement. "You know" Alfred began, placing down the figurines. "I would have thought you'd be happier." Death turned to fix Victory with a hard gaze.

"What do you mean? Of course I'm happy."

Alfred's look softened when he saw that she really did seem confused by his statement. "You look sad too though" he clarified, gesturing to how she was still holding herself.

Eris seemed to finally take notice of her body posture and dropped her arms before standing and marching back towards the table. "Bittersweet I think would be a better description" she admitted.

"Why? Everything is back the way it was. We're home."

She looked over at the door, waiting for War to walk through and steadfastly refused to meet Death's searching gaze. "You didn't think you would be able to stay did you?" she whispered just loud enough for him to hear.

"What do you mean?" Eris opened her mouth to answer but right then was when Arthur entered. He and Victory locked gazes and shared a sad look. The two met and wrapped their arms around each other by the table. The redhead horseman tucking Eris' head under his chin. "Arthur what does she mean?" Alfred decided to direct the yet unanswered question to him instead. War sighed and pressed his forehead to Victoria's before retracting his arms and turning to face Death. They still held each other's hands though.

"Think about it Alfred. The world still needs America and England. Two personifications can't just disappear forever like that. It would cause chaos." Understanding crawled it's way into Alfred's mind. "We need to go back."

Suddenly it was America who felt like holding himself. He slumped down into his chair again with a lost expression. "But, I don't want to" he admitted both to himself and to the others present. "I want to stay here." The two elder horsemen made their way over and placed hands on Alfred's shoulders before kneeling down next to him.

"You won't be alone you know" Eris reminded him and Arthur nodded.

"She's right. I'm going too. We may not be able to keep these forms but we will still be brothers. We are the Horsemen of War and Death just as much as we are the nations England and America."

Alfred shot a look to Arthur's changed form and gave a small smile. "I do kind of miss the blond hair. You remind me too much of Scotland looking like that" he joked, crinkling his nose to display his dislike. England reciprocated the expression.

Still though, War smiled at seeing the younger joke around. "Yes and I miss you're old bomber jacket. It just doesn't look right all black and white like that" Alfred pushed his chair aside and pulled War into a standing hug.

"Okay I'll go back. Just promise me that going to Earth won't change this." Arthur remained silent for a while and just focused on hugging his brother while having a silent conversation over the younger's shoulder with Victoria.

"Of course not. I've always ever seen you as my younger brother. Nothing on Heaven, Hell, or Earth could ever change that" he assured before pulling away. Alfred felt cold at the loss. A lingering ache from losing War's fire, but he was willing to put up with it because that fire was back where it belonged.

Death took a deep breath. "When do we have to go?"

"Soon" Victoria answered. "Pestilence has gone to prepare the way. He activated the time seal. Earth has been reverted back to the same day my angels and I abducted you. When you return it will be like nothing ever happened. We should start on our way as soon as you're ready."

Alfred gaped at the two. "Already!? I thought we would have a few days at least!" Arthur shook his head.

"Many rules were already bent to create the time seal. Pestilence has been struggling for a while to preserve it so that the destruction of London might be avoided. If we don't leave now it might unravel." Alfred nodded in understanding. He didn't want to risk England's stability. It was essential then that they go back immediately.

"Fine. Let's go then." The three Horsemen present nodded in agreement and left.

Flying on their individual sets of unique wings the three set off to the open field where long ago the Horseman of Death was judged and sentenced for his crimes. There they landed around the open chasm. "Is Pestilence already gone?" Arthur inquired, glancing around. "I was hoping to have few words with him before leaving. We haven't spoken in so long."

Eris glanced around as well. Sighing she shook her head. "Doesn't look like it. Honestly, of all the times he could have been a bit more social. He can't have that much to do. Sorry War."

"No no it's fine. We'll see one another again regardless." Arthur took a deep breath and looked down into the chasm. "Shall we?"

Death and Victory traded a glance then turned to the other and nodded. The three of them jumped.

The next time Alfred blinked, he was in a familiar, secluded alley. It was the early afternoon. Glancing over to Arthur, he saw that the man was once again dressed in his green military uniform and had gone back to appearing like England. America then looked himself over as well and saw that his bomber jacket had returned to it's normal coloring and therefore assumed his looks had as well. "We're back" he mentioned absentmindedly. The sounds of cars and pedestrians and various other noises bombarded his ears. It all felt so... ordinary. It was weird going back to it after everything that had happened.

"Indeed" Victory muttered, sounding decidedly unhappy.

"Victoria" Arthur took her hand comfortingly. "It will be alright." Alfred looked away respectively but couldn't help but hear a distinct sniffling and sob. He peeked over his shoulder to see Victory's arms wrapped around War's neck and their heads were buried in each other's shoulders.

"I'll be watching over you" Eris promised in a wavering voice.

Arthur nodded and rubbed her back. "I know you will. And hey" he pulled away slightly to look into her eyes. Alfred, if he didn't know any better, would almost say Eris looked vulnerable in that instant. "It won't be forever. When the time comes I will follow after you." Victory nodded in understanding.

Shaking herself off and returning to her normal, composed state Victory pulled away and placed her hands on Arthur's shoulders. "Eighty-nine thousand, four hundred and twenty-five. And I will await every one with eager anticipation." England smiled at that. Then Victory looked over to fix Death with a commanding stare. "And you." Alfred straightened up to attention so fast that it would have impressed Germany. "Keep an eye on him for me" she jerked her head towards Arthur to indicate who she meant by 'him'.

"Of course" he responded immediately. She smirked knowingly at America for a moment before her lips twitched downward sadly again. At her back, her white wings twitched, signaling to her that it was nearing time to leave. She clutched to War's hand desperately and leaned forward so that the two's foreheads touched and their noses just barely nuzzled together. Both shut their eyes to focus on the physical contact they shared.

"Every day felt like an eternity before. I don't know how I'll stand it now" she whispered quietly. A slight pleading to her tone.

Arthur sighed heavily and pressed their connection further. "What's an eternity? But time yet uncounted." Both horsemen smiled, eyes remaining shut for a moment longer until at some unknown signal they both pulled away and opened them again.

"Until eternity then?"

"Until eternity" he confirmed. They leaned in once more and kissed. It was brief, but meaningful. The two let go of their hands and England backed away to stand beside America while Victory spread her wings. She gave a few test flaps before slowly starting to rise. "I love you. And I'll be watching over you War. Always remember that. Victory will forever be at your side" she called down to him as she flew higher and higher into the sky. Soon disappearing into the clouds. Alfred looked down to see Arthur wearing a pained smile. He could tell that War wanted nothing more than to fly after her. But he couldn't because of Death.

"I'm sorry" Alfred admitted later when England finally looked away.

"You say that one more time and I swear I will hit you upside the head" Arthur shook his head in exasperation, but there was a slight smile on his lips.

America returned the smile. "So it's over then?" he asked, turning to start towards the UN building. After several moments without an answer though Alfred turned around only to notice that the world had gone silent. Arthur was still standing on the spot where they had arrived. "Arthur?" the man's head was bent slightly so that Alfred could not see his eyes under the man's blond bangs. "What's wrong?"

Finally, England looked up to face America. He was still smiling, but in that smile as well as his eyes was such a profound sadness that it made Alfred's heart seize in dread. "Not quite over actually" the Brit whispered in a slightly broken voice. "I mean, we can't just leave things like this now can we" Arthur gestured around but at nothing specific. Alfred remained confused.

"I don't get it."

Arthur sighed. "You can't stay Mordred. Everything has to go back to the way it was before. That includes in our minds as well."

Death froze. Something in his eyes died as he took in War's words. He shook his head. "No."

Arthur started walking towards him. "I'm sorry."

"NO" Alfred stated more firmly this time and took a step back.

"It was part of the agreement. A contingency to preserve Pestilence's punishment should something ever happen to unravel it. He knew eventually Victoria would do something like this." Arthur explained as he continued to near.

"B-but what happened in Hell. I killed you then. It's been fulfilled. There's no need to-"

"It doesn't work that way Mordred." Alfred tried to turn and flee when he felt a strong hand wrap around his arm. America tried to wrench his arm back, but his strength was overruled by the overwhelming might of War. "It was meant to be carried out on Earth, not in Hell."

America gasped, unable to catch a well of tears flooding over. "I can't go back" he pleaded. "I don't want to go back."

England smiled sadly and used his free hand to cup the side of America's cheek. Wiping away the falling tears. "I know. But this is the way it has to be. The United States still has a lot of growing to do. And you can't do that with me standing there holding you back." Alfred watched with stunned eyes as Arthur's tears made an appearance as well, but there was no one to catch his so they fell freely.

"I would rather have you stay my brother, than ever become the strongest nation on Earth" America swore.

"I know. And that's why you have to forget. You have to forget everything that's happened." War released Death's limbs. And while Alfred felt the need to run, to get away from what was coming he found he could not. Something was keeping him still and at the complete mercy of the other.

"But Victory-"

"She knew as well. This was always how it was meant to end. Nothing was ever going to change." Alfred was finding it hard to breath. He had to brace himself against one of the walls of the alley as he began to gasp for breath. Another panic attack.

Alfred looked to Arthur with a heartbroken expression. "B-but, I was going to protect you. I was going to stay by your side; forever. Even on Earth." He forced himself to meet England's verdant gaze. "If you take my memories... I'll kill you. Someday I will kill you and take your land for myself. And I may not even shed a tear."

Arthur took the younger's face in his hands. "If that is the case then when the time comes I will remember _these _tears. And I will forgive you. I will always forgive you."

Alfred could feel the magic pooling inside of Arthur. The spell was coming and he began to fight again. Pushing against War's chest to try and get away. But his strength was nothing compared to the other's. "Please. I don't want to hurt you. I don't want to forget. Don't make me go back to the way things were before. I'm b-begging you please stop!"

Death shut his eyes in dread as War's forehead pressed itself against his. "I'm so sorry. But I will not forget this I swear it. We will always be brothers. Now sleep."

America forced his eyes open to try and take in his brother's face. He saw Arthur's eyes clench shut it concentration and something like white light flashed in the back of the Horseman- no Nation's- mind. Everything that happened in last week started flashing before his eyes in speedy reverse before disappearing into nothingness. Fading forever from his memory.

_One of Arthur's hands went to rest over his heart. _"_**And it hurts. I-It hurts so much." **_

"No!" Alfred protested.

"_You will not touch my brother!" he shouted into Abaddon's face._

"Please I don't want to forget!"

"_Sorry if I offended you. But regardless if he's War or England he is still Arthur and he is still my brother. I want to make things right."_

Back in reality England gasped in pain and hunched over as strength began to flood from his body and return to America. Restoring the supernatural strength he had had before. "England please stop it's hurting you!" But since when did Arthur ever listen to Alfred. The memories continued to fade and England continued to weaken.

" _**If you want to help him you need to be able to remember everything. You need to remember how to use the power you stole." **_ _America still wasn't listening so Mordred shook him again. _"_**If you go down there now both of you will die."**_

Arthur forced his eyes open once more. And the pained green met the devastated blue of the younger man. "Please" Alfred begged in a quiet whisper.

_Alfred gasped as the vision receded. Mordred looked ill and Eris beyond upset. After a few tense moments of silence she spoke. "Never doubt this America. What happened that day was your fault. You betrayed us, and he was dragged down with you."_

"Please make it stop."

"_I will admit, it is likely that our fates are decided by the events that have already taken place in history. And as such, may be too far set to change. But the outcome of fate cannot be interpreted without destiny. It may be a man's fate to die. But would you not agree that there is a great difference in if that man kills himself or dies to save another?" America nodded, not even waiting for Mordred to agree as well. "That is the difference. It's the journey that matters, not the destination. If you dwell on fates predetermined you become slave to it. Forge your own destiny and regardless of fate you need not fear the outcome. That, is why we were given free will."_

"_**Some fates are to be feared regardless of whatever destiny we make to get there. Arthur, if it is your fate to die at my hand, does it matter the circumstance? Is there any scenario where I should... could be okay with that?"**_

Alfred stopped his begging, now all he could do was cry as his memories were stolen. Somewhere in the back of his mind he registered that Arthur had moved so that he was now hugging Alfred tightly.

_The dark one gave a sly smile and stepped back away from the door so that America was between him and the exit. _"_**I had a brother once." **__His voice was wistful and he stared off in the distance, though it was clear by looking him in the eye that his mind was far away. _"_**His name was Arthur. I betrayed him." **_

The memories were nearing their conclusion. Alfred tried to hang on to each one. But even as he relived them anew they were quickly wiped from his mind. And he was forced to cling to the next closest one along the ever shortening chain.

_Alfred's eyes shot open and he jumped at the sound of England's voice. He smiled down at the Brit who was rubbing a hand over his forehead and couldn't help himself. He jumped the man, hugging him tightly right there on the bed._

"_Iggy! You're awake!" England looked absolutely confused for a moment before smiling and patting Alfred's head. America slowly untangled himself from the older nation. "How are you feeling? Are you okay?" Worry etched it's way back onto the American's features._

He wouldn't feel the same after this was over. America knew himself. The genuine concern he had learned to show over the course of this ordeal would conceal itself once again. The brotherly connection they had painstakingly reforged was going to unravel. It was already unraveling.

"_Of course." She waved a hand as if to dismiss his doubt. "Power, like energy can neither be created or destroyed. In order for a new force to rise there must be a power vacuum of some kind. For one legacy to begin another must fall." She looked up at Alfred again seriously. "You must know this. How else, but without these three attributes could thirteen colonies break free from the most powerful empire of the age?" Eris raised an inquisitive brow. "And grow to become the new world power while the latter's strength began to fade? For America to rise to power England, the British Empire, had to fall from grace."_

Soon there was only one memory left to which America so desperately wanted to cling. Everything else was gone. But if he could just keep this one then even if he could not remember that they were both horsemen. It would be enough. '_Please. Not this. Just leave me this.' _But life was cruel. And fate even crueler.

"_D-don't" he said quietly._

"_What?"_

"_Don't die" he said in the same small voice._

"_I'm bleeding out Alfred" he sounded resigned. "My eyelids feel like lead, I don't think I can last."_

"_Please. Please don't." Alfred had only seen Arthur dead once before. Of course the older nation had died and revived countless times, but Alfred had only witnessed it once. It had frightened him. Arthur just gone. The thought made his blood run cold. He didn't want to be left alone in this room tied up next to the body of his best friend for who knew how long. Wondering, doubting whether he would wake up at all. "Don't leave me alone here."_

"_I'll be back in a few hours" England reasoned. He was starting to sound tired again._

"_PLEASE!" Alfred begged. England sighed heavily._

"_...fine. I'll stay." England leaned his head back so they were in the same position as before. Head and shoulders brushing as much as possible in their confined positions. But when England said nothing after a few seconds Alfred grew worried again._

"_Arthur?"_

"_I'm still here love, I promise."... _

Alfred's vision darkened and faded to black. Where was he again? America was pretty sure he had been in a world meeting. England had been talking right? Geez that guy could get boring lecturing on and on. The young superpower hoped the old man would finally be done by the time he got up from this cat nap. Besides, he had been having this weird dream. And he felt so tired for some reason.

"...Sleep Mordred..." A voice? It sounded like Arthur. But... it was so sad. Why was England sad? Alfred didn't like hearing that tone. But it wasn't like he was going to say anything about it. He was taking a heroic nap!

"... Sleep..." '_I am sleeping. But why don't you? You sound even more tired than me.'_

"...ordred..." What was that name Arthur had called him? It sounded familiar. Something out of an old story. Or was it a true story? He couldn't remember.

"...red..." The sleeping American strained his ears to hear Arthur's voice calling him. It sounded so pleasant. So caring. When was the last time he and England had spoken to each other so genuinely? He liked it. He...

"AMERICA!" A hand slammed down on the meeting table right before where the slumbering nation had had his arms crossed on the table to cradle his head. Said nation jumped to a sitting position and was jarred into reality as he took in the rest of his fellow nation gathering up their meeting supplies and dispersing to do whatever it was they wanted now that the world meeting was over.

Alfred felt a slight blush grow at the fact that he had apparently slept through the entire remainder of the meeting. When had he even fallen asleep? America turned to meet the glare of the slightly shorter blond that was standing over him with a scowl on his face. "Dude what the hell? I was sleeping you-" America's insults died on his lips. He was planning on complaining to England but for some reason he just couldn't. Something about the Brit's eyes. He was wearing his usual scowl, but something in his eyes didn't have their usual flare. Like he was sad for some reason. "You know what? Whatever. Meeting's over I'm leaving."

He didn't want to keep looking at those eyes. So America quickly packed up his things. Careful not to look in England's eyes he got up and turned to leave when a weak hand wrapped around his arm. Alfred froze and turned around to see England looking up to the younger nation earnestly. "Look I'm sorry for waking you so rudely" he apologized. "You were just sleeping so soundly I couldn't wake you any other way. I wasn't trying to upset you." Alfred glanced away a bit in shame. He _was _a heavy sleeper after all so it was probably true.

"It's fine dude don't worry about it. Sorry for snapping at you" Alfred apologized before pulling his arm away and turning his back on the other to leave. England hadn't let him go so the American had had to use some of his extra strength to force it away. He only made it a few steps though before Arthur called his name again.

"Alfred!" said nation turned back around. "D-do you want to walk back to the hotel together?" Alfred considered the request. He wanted to say yes. Maybe the two of them would be able to catch up a bit. Spend some time with his bro- ex-brother. But then again, he wasn't sure if he did want to. Japan had asked him before to play that one game with him tonight. Oh, and there he was too.

"Nah sorry. I promised Kiku I would play _Darksiders 2_ with him tonight. Maybe some other time. See ya!" Alfred flashed that thousand watt grin of his and departed with a passing wave. Turning his back so that he wouldn't see the flash of deep hurt that overcame the Brit he was leaving behind.

Behind him England mumbled something like, "oh, right. Of course, sorry for troubling you" before leaving himself in the opposite direction. Alfred felt an intense urge to turn around and chase the older man. Tell him he changed his mind. A cold chasm seemed to be building in his heart the farther the two grew from each other. But heroes didn't break promises to their friends. And he was a hero. So he ignored the feeling.

Someone or something bumped into him. "Ow. What the- oh hey it's you... who're you again?" Alfred rubbed his forehead where it had clashed with the other nation who looked a lot like him. Across from him, his violet-eyed twin mirrored the action.

The other nation sighed. "It's Canada, your brother, Alfred. And I was just going to say that maybe you should go back with England eh? He seems kind of down. I think he could use the company." Matthew shot his brother a disapproving look. Clutching that polar bear of his tightly against his chest.

Alfred gulped and scratched the back of his head a little in embarrassment. England really did look sad. But it would be awkward and... he just couldn't. "Oh he's fine. It'll take a bit more than a little slump to get to him. He's a tough old man. Besides I have plans with Japan." Again America flashed a fake smile but Canada didn't seem to be convinced in the least. An uncharacteristic look of anger overcame the quiet North American.

"Fine. Be that way. I think I'll go walk back with him then." Canada shoved past his brother. Giving his younger twin a small taste of his own immense strength which the Canadian shared. "I thought you were better than that. He's your brother after all" he heard the quieter one whisper. America had a feeling he hadn't been meant to hear that.

"What's up with him today?" he wondered aloud. Canada was almost never like this. He saw Matthew catch up with Arthur. After a few moments of reintroduction seeing as England had forgotten who the younger nation was again, the two gave a quick hug and started away together. Alfred's heart sank, pained a little. He really wanted to join them, but he didn't. Alfred turned to leave when something on the floor caught his eye.

Bending over America lifted a single, perfectly black feather from the ground. It was big. The largest bird feather he had ever seen. "Huh, weird" he muttered, before letting the feather fall back to the ground and starting on his way.

"Hey Japan! Wait up!"

* * *

**I feel like a part of me just died inside. I'm such a terrible person. BUT! Before you all hate me a reminder that there is still an Epilogue coming. *Sigh* but just so we're clear. As of right now everything has gone back to the way it was before the beginning of the story. America has no recall of anything that happened. England does though, and that includes what happened during that missing week not just before the two of them became nations. Anyway, please tell me what you think. It will help me update faster! **


	15. Chapter 15

**Epilogue**

A pair of brilliantly violet eyes opened slowly to stare up at a white canopy. Victoria didn't move. For some amount of time she did not bother to count the White Horseman remained stationary, laying flat in her too large bed and gazing up at the image of Triumph that lay above her. Staring, just staring. Everything was so quiet. She could only hear the sound of her own breathing and the light ruffling of sheets as she shifted slightly. Had the endless world that made up her dwelling place always reeked of such mundanity and tedium? Or was it just the result of her brief time being reunited with her family that had made the prospect of her normal day to day activities seem so... dull. When she had enough of staring at her canopy the woman slowly turned her head to face the stained glass window that lay above her chess table. Victory's hair was splayed out beneath her like a silver halo across the white sheets. Everything in here was too white. Far too white. She looked down to her chess table and her eye caught sight of the red knight. '_Arthur' _she closed her eyes and imagined.

"_Victory" she would hear him call her name and two strong arms would wrap around her from behind. Pulling her flush against his warm chest as he nuzzled his face in her hair. Dark wings would encircle her in their heat and she would pull in her own white ones in surrender to his comfort. She would sigh and lean back against him and they would lay there for most of the day. Drinking in the feeling of having each other close as they lazed about. They would whisper 'I love you's' and other sweet nothings to each other and it would all be perfect._

Eris opened her eyes and chose to ignore the small bead of water that had somehow found its' way to the corner of her eye and was now trailing a path down her cheek. The dream was only that. A dream. Her War had been there, but now he was gone again. He was back on Earth. A nation for whom she would have to wait to be with once again. But at least she could watch over him this way. A time would come when he would die though. And from then on she would simply have to wait until the call was made for him to rise once again. And it was the thought of that inevitability that made her shed silent and lonely tears.

Not wishing to remain in bed any longer Victory silently sat up and slid off the bed. The sheets had partially tangled with her long limbs but they fell away before long as she reached her wardrobe. She searched through for clothing to wear but everything was so constrictive and plain that she didn't find anything that suited her. So, taking up her white sheet she wrapped the long linen around herself and made her way out of the room and into the hallway. With the blanket trailing behind her she walked silently through the empty halls. A ghost in a home that was once so full of life. Victoria reached her destination and sighed as she entered the red room. Dropping her white sheets she lay herself across the red and black ones of War's bed and buried her face in one of the pillows. It was faint. But his scent was there. She took a deep breath of it. Committing it to memory before getting up once more and this time opening the closet in his room.

Pulling out a white shirt that he had left from his short stay she pulled the garment over her slender frame and enjoyed the feel of it draping over her. Because she was shorter, the shirt hung down to her mid thighs and the arms trailed down past the tips of her fingers slightly. It wasn't exactly appropriate to wear around in public but she was alone in this house so she didn't care. Victoria pulled her long hair out from under the shirt and let it settle against her back. She certainly didn't look the part of some great warrior who had slaughtered countless demons with her bare hands not two nights before but she didn't care. As of right now she felt like a girl who had just been separated from her love so that was exactly how she was going to appear. Even if only to herself. All she needed now was some sad movie and a carton of ice cream to make the image complete. Taking one last look around, Victoria plucked the red knight from its place on Arthur's chess table and held it tight against her chest before walking out.

The angels were all gone. They had departed back to Paradise once the other two horsemen had descended back to Earth. So she walked the empty halls to a particular study she visited daily as a sort of ritual to aid the aching of her heart. Or maybe drown herself in her misery. It was hard to tell. This particular study was Pestilence's. As she opened the door to the small room she was met by a large desk which held two objects. The Scales of Judgement, and an hourglass. But ignoring those two objects Victoria turned her attention to the wall opposite the desk which held a fireplace. Picking up a small carving knife from the mantle, Victory completed her daily ritual. She took the knife and carved a small line, no longer than a fingernail into the wall next to countless others of the same size. Another day.

Replacing the knife, the horseman took a step back to look over the result of her toils. Over three quarters of the wall were covered in these small white niches in the wood. Each one representing another day War and Death spent on Earth. She thought of it as a small way of punishing Pestilence. Every time he would walk into this study he would be reminded of how long his brothers had suffered. That she had suffered.

"Must you always do that?" Victoria gave an indignant gasp at the sudden voice. Twirling to face the intruder, and tugging down Arthur's shirt to prevent anything from showing the horseman glared at her counterpart who was seated calmly at the desk.

"Good Lord Pestilence how do you _do _that?" Victory hissed. Meeting the hooded figure of the horseman she had raised, Eris' temporary anger subsided. "I didn't even notice you were here."

Pestilence heaved a deep sigh and sat back in the chair of his desk. "I was here the entire time."

Victoria huffed. "Well anyway, you know why I do it."

Ignoring the fact that his question went mostly unanswered, Pestilence observed the hourglass. It was an odd thing. The sands remained still even as the timepiece was set upright. There was some that had fallen to the lower chamber, but it was not a steady stream. A single grain could fall after a century or a third of what remained could be displaced in a second. None could understand its pattern. Not even Pestilence who spent much of his time studying his second gift given to him by the Creator. "What is the count?" Victoria asked, deliberately looking away from the desk.

Pestilence leveled a measuring look at his elder sister before glancing back to the hourglass. "Eighty-nine thousand, four hundred and twenty three." Victoria's head immediately swiveled around to face the hourglass. "Two grains fell after our brothers returned to Earth. Tell me, did you think to initiate the end by returning Death's memories?"

Again Victory scoffed as if offended. "I would never seek to undermine the Creator's will. My intentions were only ever to see War once more. And to have him see me. Is that so wrong? And if it just so happened to speed along the time until we can be reunited for the rest of eternity then so be it."

The hourglass. The only indication of how soon it would be until the End of Days. Until the first seal would be broken. There now remained eighty-nine thousand, four hundred and twenty-three grains left to fall. None could say when the last would drop to the lower chamber. All the Horsemen could do was wait in eager anticipation. "Was it worth it?" Pestilence questioned after a moment of silence between the two.

Victory hugged herself even tighter. "I don't know." Victoria could tell by the way Pestilence shifted in his chair that he was made uncomfortable by this. He felt guilty. '_Good' _she thought to herself. "I would not have traded that short time with him for anything. But... now it is like a raw wound. I've lost him all over again. Along with Death. I just don't know how much longer I can take this. You are barely ever here and I am alone. Alone in this place with nothing but my memories. I can go to Earth to look after him but he cannot see me. And when it matters most even I, Victory herself, can do nothing to help him." Victoria's gaze shifted to stare deep into the shadows of Pestilence's cowl to where she imagined his eyes rested. "Tell me. What is the use of power if you cannot protect the ones you love?"

For a long while they remained silent. Staring at one another.

"I never meant to hurt you sister" Pestilence finally said quietly. "You or War."

"Yet I wonder why it is War and I suffer more than Death ever has from this supposed punishment." Victory had to look away. Her eyes stung and she had to press a hand to them to stifle the tears that threatened to spill over.

"It was the only way. Isn't that why you forgave him? Has this whole experience shown you nothing? Death cares for War more than his own life. That is why it is War's life that must be taken away from him. It was the only way for the scales to be balanced again. For Death to learn the value of life." Victory nodded begrudgingly in understanding. "That being said" Pestilence stood from his chair. "I have wronged both of my elder siblings in a way that is unforgivable. So I want to make it right." The Black Horseman came to stand before the White.

Victory eyed him warily. "What do you mean?"

"I would see you stand beside War once again." Victoria's eyes widened in shock.

"Y-you would return him here?" she dared not hope too much.

Pestilence raised a hand and shook his head. "No. You misunderstand. England must remain on Earth. But there is no reason why you might not join him." Victoria gasped.

The woman ran a shaky hand through her long hair and felt herself sink down to the ground. She stared unseeingly at the ground as Pestilence knelt before her. "You mean give up my life as a Horseman? Become like him?" Pestilence nodded. "You would raise a new nation for me?" She shook her head at the thought. "I couldn't. I will never fight him. If I became a nation then circumstances might force me to go to war against him. I would never tolerate that."

Pestilence rested a hand on her shoulder. "No. I cannot create a new nation. The world is filled. The borders set and the blank spaces on the map filled in. I cannot raise you to a nation, but I can give you a life at his side. Though you would follow him this time instead of the other way around."

Hope filled Victory's eyes. "Do it. I don't care if I am nothing but a territory to him. If I can be by his side until the End then I will be content."

"You would not have the powers of Victory as you do now" Pestilence warned. "Your life will be tied to his and if he should fall. So will you."

At this Victoria smirked. "You are suggesting that the two of us together could be overcome."

Pestilence, though the other horseman couldn't see, matched her smile. "You accept then?"

Victory stood and Pestilence followed suit. "Yes" she stated proudly.

The hooded Horseman came to stand behind his sister. Taking a deep breath he rested his hands on her shoulders. "Show me your wings" he ordered with some hesitance. Victory gulped but did so. Unfurling the pristine white appendages.

"Will it hurt?" Victory asked quietly. She had seen how War and Death had been cast to Earth. Arthur's screams had echoed in her ears and nightmares for a long time after.

Pestilence sighed sadly and took grip of the wings at their base. "More than anything you have ever felt or likely ever will." He never was one for sugarcoating the truth.

Victoria took a shuddering sigh to prepare herself. "There are worse things that physical pain. Just make it quick." Pestilence nodded silently behind her and his grip tightened. "And Pestilence?" she quickly cut in. Looking over her shoulder at the younger horseman.

"Hmm?"

"I want to remember. You will _not _take my memories from me. Is that understood?"

"Of course. You and War will both have full knowledge of your true identities and everything that has taken place" he swore. Victory nodded in acknowledgement and turned to face forward again. "Then farewell brother."

"Farewell Victory." To her credit, Victoria did not scream. But instead she allowed a smile to grace her lips even as tears of pain cascaded down her cheeks as her wings were torn from her back.

The last sensation the Horseman of Victory felt was that of falling.

* * *

England sat in an armchair in his bedroom staring out the window. It was raining again. Somewhere in the back of his mind Arthur registered that his tea was getting cold but he couldn't bring himself to care. So England simply continued to gaze at the rain. His chin resting on his fist which was propped up on the arm of the chair. Nothing had changed. Really he had known it wouldn't but he had hoped. But America was content to leave things the way they were. He had his friends and his strong nation. What real need did he have for an older nation like England? Arthur really shouldn't have held Alfred to what he had said when he had his memories as Death. It wasn't fair to him. But that didn't mean it hurt any less.

**THUD.**

The sound of something heavy making contact with the ground brought England out of his thoughts. The Brit jumped, nearly spilling his cold tea as he did so. "What the-" he shut himself up and strained his ears to try and hear what had made the noise. '_Could it be an intruder?' _ Well if it was, the individual had definitely picked the wrong house to try and rob. England was in no mood to be civil and he would beat the crap out of whoever it was.

Reaching into his nightstand, Arthur plucked his handgun from the drawer and quietly clicked off the safety. It never hurt to be prepared. Slowly, and with gun at the ready the island nation made his way out of his bedroom and started inching down the stairs to the main floor where he had heard the noise come from. But while he continued to try and listen for more sounds to indicate where exactly the intruder was he was met with nothing but silence.

That was until he heard a light groan. So whoever this was had to be a woman. Still though, Arthur knew better than to take whoever this was lightly because of it. Turning the corner, England lifted his gun and trained it on the first thing he found out of place. And then subsequently dropped the weapon in shock.

There, laying on the ground in a small heap and wearing nothing but a long dress shirt he was sure belonged to him, was Victoria. Sure she looked different. Her hair was a different color. No longer that strange and shifting shade of silver and black, her hair was now an extremely light platinum blonde with highlights of a darker, dirtier blond that more closely resembled his own. Her skin as well, was less ashen color and instead a lighter peach color that was more, human. But still, it was her. No matter what form, War would always recognize Victory.

"Ugh" she groaned again. Victoria squirmed a little and her eyes fluttered open. They were still violet colored, but in them were flecks of green. The eyes met his. "A-Arthur?" Victoria raised a shaking hand and reached it out to his own. Immediately, England grasped it and held it close. She smiled at that. "You can see me. It worked."

England was not sure how to feel. He was pleased yes. Victoria was here. Somehow she was here, with him, on Earth. But that could only mean that Pestilence had done the same to her as he had to him. And that made him fill with dread. He did not wish that pain on Victory. "Victoria... how?"

The former horseman tightened her grip on Arthur and pulled herself up. In so doing Arthur caught sight of the dark red stains that covered the back of the shirt she was wearing. Gasping in horror England didn't think before lifting his hand to touch the skin beneath the blood. "Aah!" Victoria gasped in pain and collapsed against Arthur's chest.

"Shit. Victoria I'm so sorry!" Arthur moved his hands to Victoria's arms so as to not put further pressure on her now apparent injuries. "How did this happen?" he asked with concern.

Victoria looked up and smiled weakly, yet genuinely. "I asked Pestilence to do it. So that I could be like you."

England gasped. "Like me-" for the first time Arthur noticed the feeling that was coming off of Victoria. It was like any of the other nations, but at the same time, not.

"I suppose I ought to call you England now" she said with a smile. Using Arthur for support the two made their way to a standing position. He watched, stunned, as Victoria lifted his hand and intertwined their fingers. A shock traveled between them and resonated in Arthur's heart.

In her touch he felt the most treasured of his cities. The place most key to his survival. "London" he whispered, looking up to meet Victoria's eyes. She jumped a little at the name. "My heart."

England wrapped his arms around London's waist, careful to avoid the wounds on her back. He pulled her close, marvelling at how she seemed smaller now. A little shorter, definitely weaker, she even appeared younger. As a horseman she had appeared a little older than Arthur, maybe twenty-four or twenty-five, but now she seemed barely older than Alfred, closer to twenty or twenty-one. But without a doubt she was just as amazing as when she was Victory. Perhaps even more so because now they really had become like one body. How appropriate. She was now his heart given form. "Just like God gave Adam Eve" she whispered against his chest, listening intently to the heart within which beat perfectly in time with hers. "You were made for me. We were always meant to be of one flesh and now we truly are. I am yours and you are mine."

England lifted his hand to take London's chin and tilted it upwards so that her eyes could meet his. "Forever and always. From now until eternity and every moment after." Gently, so as not to irritate her horrible wounds, Arthur lifted Victoria up slightly, and dove down to meet her lips with his.

* * *

'_He's late.' _America couldn't help the fact that his foot was bouncing up and down impatiently under the large table of the meeting room. All of the other nations were here. _Literally _everyone else who was usually late for one reason or another were here except for one. Surveying the room Alfred took note of some of these. Spain it seemed had woken up from his siesta and dragged Romano in with him. Greece as well, looked to have at least waited until he was seated to fall asleep. Heck, America was here on time instead of heroically making his fashionably late entrance! And yet, for some reason, England, one of the more punctual of the nations was now- America looked over to the clock on the wall- over FIFTEEN minutes late.

"Ahem. Perhaps it is time we begin?" Germany asked tentatively of the unusually quiet room. This was the third time he had tried to start the meeting but just like both five and ten minutes ago America was having none of it.

"No way man! Iggy's still not here yet. We can't start without him!" Alfred started chewing on the nail of his thumb nervously as he continued to bounce his leg up and down. What could keep the Brit from coming to a meeting on time? The guy even came when he was sick with the flu for crying out loud! '_Could he have gotten really REALLY sick? What if the old man slipped and couldn't get up!" _Really if anyone else could have heard the thoughts in the American's head they would realize that he was just being ridiculous. But the young nation was honestly just concerned. He had been ever since the end of that last meeting.

England had grown distant in the last month. America had tried calling several times either to try and make it up to him for blowing the Brit off or just to say hi, but every time he got no answer. Alfred had become so worried in fact that he had even nation-hopped over to Arthur's London home to check up on him only to find that the guy wasn't home. In the end the young man had settled for waiting until this month's meeting to find out what was up but now it seemed that the prospects of that happening were slim.

Another five minutes went by.

England was now twenty minutes late.

'_That's it!' _Faster than most would think possible America jumped to his feet. Slamming his hands down on the table as he did so. He was about to proclaim that he was going to find the Brit and find out what was wrong when voices started filtering through the doorway.

"Honestly you look fine" came the recognizable sound of England's voice.

"Are you sure? But what if they don't like it? You said it yourself, there's no one else like me" came the response. This time in a voice of someone America could not recognize.

Something that sounded like sighing erupted from just outside the doorway. "Look. It's the uniform, you have to wear it. And besides, I said that because there's no one else as amazing or beautiful or perfect as you. And if anyone has anything bad to say about what you are then they'll have to deal with the both of us. Now come on, we're already late. They probably already started." All heads turned to the double doors as they were opened to admit two figures dressed in a familiar green uniform.

The first, was England. And the second, was a woman no one recognized. Though America did feel a certain familiarity when he looked at her. "Oh" England muttered dumbly when he realized that all eyes were on them. The Brit cleared his throat and then gestured a hand towards his blond companion. "So sorry to interrupt but I have someone I would like to introduce to everyone. This," he said gesturing towards the woman with violet eyes. "Is Victoria Kirkland. You would better know her as London. My capital." A stunned silence filled the meeting room. At first both Britons shared slight flushes of embarrassment which turned to a frustrated scowl as minutes went by without a single word being uttered. "Well someone bloody say something!" England shouted.

"Angleterre how is this possible? I don't think there has ever been a personified city before." France mentioned. Many of the other nations nodded their heads in agreement over this fact, while America was simply staring blankly.

"Well what about Seborga?" Arthur argued back, taking London's hand defensively in his.

"Ve~ It's not exactly the same thing" Italy tentatively piped in but was immediately silenced as he met the piercing glare of two angry Kirklands.

This time it was Victoria who spoke in response. Leveling the poor Northern Italian with a scary grin that was on par with Russia's, she asked, "You were saying?"

Italy shrieked in terror and hid behind Germany. "N-Niente" he whispered to the scary woman. Alfred felt a shiver run down his spine. Damn, that woman was scary. And Feliciano, the poor guy, was already so frightened of England. London was probably going to give him a nervous breakdown.

"Bene" she said back with an oddly good Italian accent. It earned the capital a few strange looks from the other nations, but Victoria didn't seem to notice.

A couple of minutes went by with more introductions being made and a very heated debate between Victoria and Francis about whether or not, since London was a city in England, that the woman was Arthur's daughter. At the very suggestion England had collapsed with a horrified face in one of the open chairs on the table while Victoria proceeded to strangle the Frenchman just like England usually did.

All the while, America was oddly silent. Normally he would have done something by now to get the attention in the room back on the hero, but for some reason he couldn't stop looking between Arthur and Victoria with an odd expression. Something about her, gave him a sense of foreboding. But at the same time he couldn't help but be thankful for her. In the short time he had known her during the course of the meeting the superpower couldn't deny that she was good for England. She seemed to bring a kind of fire and new life into his old mentor that Alfred had not seen in a long while. Well, that is, after he had gotten over the shock of the possibility that she was his daughter. '_He really doesn't need me. Arthur doesn't need me to be his brother. He has her now, that should be enough to make him happy' _he decided inwardly with a sad smile.

Alfred did want to get closer to Arthur again. Like they used to be, but he just wasn't sure how to do it. "Hey you're the United States of America right?" Alfred was pulled out of his inner thoughts by a pair of violet eyes and a slender, pale hand held out to him. Looking up he saw Victoria offering a hand for the other to shake. America did so.

"Yeah, but you can just call me America or Alfred if you want. Alfred F. Jones." Something Alfred wasn't privy to made the blonde flinch at the mention of America's human name, but she shook it off quickly enough.

"Well, since the Frog seems to have everyone convinced, incorrectly mind you, that I'm England's daughter that would make you my uncle right?" she gave America a knowing smile as the young nation could only gape.

Alfred's mouth opened and closed like a fish. "Your... your uncle... That would make me-"

"Yes. Well technically maybe not but Arthur did say you two were like brothers right?" Alfred continued to look stunned as he looked over Victoria's shoulder to see Arthur observing them both. The Brit seemed to have caught up with their conversation because he spared London a quick glance before meeting America's stare. He was smiling and arched one of his large eyebrows in silent question. Alfred grinned and looked back to Victoria who had a smug and definitely pleased look on her face.

"Heck yeah! I'm your uncle America!" Maybe England wanted him around more than he thought.

* * *

Matthew Williams, better known as Canada, watched everything that was happening with a small, amused smile on his lips. This meeting, he wasn't even sure if you could call it a meeting anymore, had gotten very interesting now that the world had been introduced to London, or Victoria Kirkland if you preferred. The whole world had started posing questions to the odd couple. Arthur and Victoria were now tag teaming to try and convince everyone once again that 'NO THEY WERE NOT FATHER AND DAUGHTER!' Canada had to admit it was rather amusing. Of course he had been forgotten during the course of all this commotion. Not that the situation was entirely unexpected to the North American. He didn't mind being overlooked. Sure it had been hard at first, but he had learned to cope with blending into the background long ago. Consequence of being a half-existence and all that.

Besides, what better way was there to quietly watch over the well-being of his fellow horsemen on Earth?

**THE END**

* * *

**And we have arrived at the end! For real this time! So you see I am not completely heartless. It may not be a perfect happy ending, but there is hope for them. For those who guessed you were right! Matthew is Pestilence. The mastermind behind everything! And just so it's clear no one knows he's Pestilence. Not even Victoria. The reason why no one ever notices him is because he is the only one of the Four who is dealing with being a Nation and a Horseman at the same time. Because of that he doesn't exist completely in either place. As for making Victoria London. I was originally going to make her another country or maybe the Isle of Man, but then I figured Victory wouldn't settle for that because there would always be the possibility of hostilities between whatever nation she became and England. So I made her his capital instead. She is NOT his daughter. I just read other stories where states and capitals were the nations' children so I felt the need to clarify. So what did you all think? Good? Bad? Please tell me what you think about this story. I really enjoyed writing my first multi chapter story and am excited to write another. (As soon as I come up with an AU.) Just a heads up I am thinking of rewriting the first chapter because as I mentioned previously I wrote that when this was meant to be a completely different story. So if you have any objections to that let me know. And one last time thank you to everyone who has kept up with this story and reviewed! I say this a lot but you guys really are amazing! Bye!**


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